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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590810">What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Ugly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty'>imawalkingtravesty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Tony Stark, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Delirium, Depressed Tony Stark, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Kidnapping, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:14:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You okay otherwise? Morals haven’t changed?” Tony asked, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up from guilt, and there was a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. He tried to keep his tone light but his voice just came out strained.</p><p>“Yeah," Peter answered, refusing to meet his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>In which Tony and Peter are captured, and it's all Tony's fault.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Rhodey" Rhodes &amp; Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Argwwww I had this in my drafts for so long,,, I think it's finally time for it to see the light.<br/>Let me know what you think of so far?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!”</p>
<p>“What is it, kid?”</p>
<p>“There’s something stuck to you!”</p>
<p>Tony whirled around in mid-air, trying to find whatever Peter was talking about. </p>
<p>The two were on a very lax mission, just tracing a signal to its origin point (a weakened Hydra Base, according to Tony’s computer), and so far so good. Tony had asked Peter to come along, just for fun. Let the kid get a small taste of Avenger-ing before he grew up and made a real, final decision. Rhodey was following close behind just in case something happened, but what the kid didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. </p>
<p>“It’s like, pulsing blue.”</p>
<p>“Where?” Tony asked, still twisting around to look at his armour.</p>
<p>“On your back. Wait, land somewhere, I’ll get it off,” Peter instructed, and Tony landed on a nearby roof of an office building and Peter soon followed, landing with grace beside him.</p>
<p>“It looks weird,” Peter said, standing up ripping it off of the armour. He showed it to Tony, who scanned it with the suit computer. It looked like Tony’s old miniaturized arc reactor, about the size of a hockey puck, glowing blue and everything; but it for sure wasn’t one. FRIDAY put the results of the scan as soon as it was done on Tony’s dashboard. </p>
<p>“Peter, pass it,” Tony said quickly with his heart in his throat, holding out his hand, but it was too late.</p>
<p>The bomb detonated in Peter’s hands, and they were both thrown away from each other. Tony tried to regain control of the suit but there was too much force, and he landed somewhere amongst a pile of rubble, his head pounding. He retracted the helmet of his suit quickly and took a good look around at the damage, gasping, desperate to find a little glimpse of a red and blue suit somewhere...</p>
<p>The building they had been on top of was completely leveled, foundation crumbled and concrete pillars snapped in half. Small fires were starting in places, smoke filling Tony’s lungs. There was ringing in his ears and it felt like he was floating, falling. He was vaguely aware of sirens, of shouting, of someone running up to him, but it wasn’t the kid. Tony didn’t even know if he was alive. His armour was significantly less durable than Tony’s to allow for flexibility, and the bomb had detonated <em>in his hands</em>, there was no way, it wasn’t possible, no one could’ve-</p>
<p>“Iron Man,” a gruff voice said. </p>
<p>The person who was running up to him held a syringe to Tony’s exposed neck, and the world went black.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?”</p>
<p>Tony stirred.</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?”</p>
<p>He wasn’t wearing his armour, but his limbs still felt like lead. He brought his hand up to his eyes.</p>
<p>“C’mon, Mr Stark. It’s me. Peter Parker.”</p>
<p>God that voice was loud. Tony kind of wished it would stop talking. He was tired, wanted to sleep, but he was on a hard floor and his back was killing him. Had he passed out drunk again? Tony thought he had stopped drinking excessively. Although it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had started up again. Pepper would be so disappointed.</p>
<p>Then Tony remembered, the bomb, the mission, the man, the syringe, <em>the bomb exploding in the kid’s face- </em></p>
<p>His eyes flew open with a start and he sat up too quickly, the world spinning and tilting dangerously. Spots danced in front of his eyes and blackness was creeping up around the edges of his vision again. Surprisingly strong hands kept him steady, and the voice was still talking, but it was a kid’s voice, nearly pre-pubescent. A kid. <em>The</em> kid? </p>
<p>“Peter?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, hi, Mr Stark!”</p>
<p>Tony blinked a few times until the blackness subsided, and surveyed Peter. He looked okay, there was obviously dried blood on his face and near his hairline, but he wasn’t passed out on the floor or <em>dead</em> so Tony counted that as a win. Peter was pale still, obviously shaken up and just in his underwear, but he was blissfully <em>alive</em> and Tony, Tony could work with that. That was manageable. Nobody was dead.</p>
<p><em>Yet</em>, Tony thought with a small shudder.</p>
<p>Peter wasn’t wearing his suit. His feet were bare and he was dressed in some sort of hospital gown. Tony himself was in the clothes he was wearing under the suit, a dress shirt and pants. There was nothing in his pockets; he must’ve been searched and stripped. Not that there had been anything useful in his pockets, just his phone and a pen.</p>
<p>“How did you…” Tony pointed at Peter, still amazed to find him alive. “Your hands, you, how-”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Peter said truthfully, interrupting Tony’s broken sentences. “I kind of threw it the second before it detonated. I could, I don’t know. Sense something was wrong or something.”</p>
<p>Tony grabbed onto Peter’s arm, <em>solid arm</em>, just to make sure he was really there. Peter seemed surprised a bit, but didn’t flinch away or whatever, he just let Tony take his time for a bit. He lifted his head after a few seconds, looking Peter in the eye. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Mr Stark. Really,” he reassured him. He looked spooked but Tony didn’t release the grip on his arm.</p>
<p>“Okay. Okay,” Tony said, seemingly trying to convince himself.</p>
<p>“And you? You’re shaking.”</p>
<p>And of course. Of course this would happen, when he was supposed to be strong. Of course the universe decided that no, Tony Stark, you will <em>not</em> have a good day today. <em>Of all times it had to be now.</em> Tony closed his eyes and tried to breathe before it became an issue, but it just became more difficult the more he concentrated.</p>
<p>“Remember when I told you I have an anxiety issue?” Tony asked, his heart already pounding in his head.</p>
<p>He hoped the kid would get it. Tony didn’t want to explain it. Peter had walked in on him once when he was on the verge of freaking out and all of the energy radiating off of him just pushed Tony to the edge, and he had to explain why he suddenly couldn’t breathe, and that was a nightmare in itself. A forty-five year-old man spilling his guts to a teenager. Thankfully, Peter just nodded.</p>
<p>“We’re going to be okay, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that just yet.” Tony’s chest was closing in on itself, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a full breath in. He squeezed Peter’s arm harder and looked at his hands.</p>
<p>“Why not? You’ve escaped before. We’re going to be fine,” Peter said, and the confidence made Tony’s heart ache.</p>
<p>They were stuck in a dark room, the only light source was the small, prison-esque window on a door. Everything was metal, the room was only about ten feet by twelve, and Tony wanted out. He was being suffocated in the small area, he needed fresh air, needed to be outside, and the air was too hot but his body was shivering with cold flashes and his hands were cold and going numb and-</p>
<p>“Your aunt. Oh God. Oh my God,” Tony gasped out, realizing. He was in deep shit now.</p>
<p>If the kid hadn’t come with him. If Tony hadn’t asked him. If it were just Tony, this would’ve been fine, he could’ve lived with that, but here he was<em>getting Peter stuck in his messes and getting him in trouble and in danger and he could’ve died, there still was the potential death coming, they have no idea what their capturers want-</em> </p>
<p>“Pete, I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“Mr Stark, please, I’m fine. Just, just breathe.” Peter was awkwardly patting Tony’s head.</p>
<p>“Oh my God.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay! You’re here. You make things work, you’ve done it before-”</p>
<p>“I don’t.” Tony shook his head. He relaxed his grip on Peter’s arm when he realized he was probably cutting off circulation, but now there was nothing to hold onto.</p>
<p>“Yes you do! Loads of times. I’ve seen the news. We’re gonna get out of here, and-”</p>
<p>“Stop.” Tony didn’t want to hear the hope that Peter had in him. </p>
<p>“-and you’re going to invent something amazing to get us out, and-”</p>
<p>“Pete, please.” Tony was going to explode. His skull felt too tight for his brain.</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out! We’re going to be fine, and-”</p>
<p>“Shut up for a minute! God! Do you ever stop talking?!” Tony wrenched himself away from Peter, standing up as fast as he could without passing out. </p>
<p>He walked over to the far wall, leaving Peter on the ground behind him, silent. Tony pressed his forehead against the cool metal, willing himself to calm down. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times, trying to get them to warm up, and focused on breathing. He just had to get his mind together, and then he’d be fine, it would all work out. Rhodey was in the sky at the time. He must’ve seen the explosion. He’d know. He’d be looking.</p>
<p>
  <em>In onetwothree out onetwothree </em>
</p>
<p>The rubber band that seemed to have been around his chest relaxed a bit, and he could breathe without the wheezing again. Peter and Tony, they were both smart, they could figure it out. Outsmart whoever had captured them, with their combined brain power, build something, make a plan, it would all be okay. Rhodey knew.</p>
<p>And at the very least, Tony wasn’t doing it alone this time.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” Tony apologized once his breathing was back under control.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” said a timid voice behind him. Tony turned around and glared at the kid.</p>
<p>“God. Kid, it’s my fault. Don’t apologize,” he said, wringing his hands and leaning back against the wall. “Sorry for freaking out on you as well. That wasn’t very nice of me.”</p>
<p>“That’s not your fault either,” Peter argued, standing up. </p>
<p>“Don’t argue with me-”</p>
<p>“We were going to enter earlier, but it seemed wrong at the time,” a voice said suddenly from the doorway. “I didn’t know <em>Iron Man </em>got panic attacks.”</p>
<p>Tony’s cheeks flushed pink and he grit his teeth. He turned to look at the imposter.</p>
<p>“Anyway, Stark, didn’t know you had a son. Spider-Man, no less. Didn’t take you as the fatherly-type, you know, with your dad and history of alcohol abuse and all that.” The man grinned, showing off his yellow teeth and chapped lips.</p>
<p>He had long, brown hair, tied back into some sort of man bun. He was skinnier than Tony would have expected, but that didn’t mean anything in terms of power. If he had the resources to capture both Iron Man and Spider-Man, then they should be cautious around him. Sometimes brain power and manipulation can outweigh brute force.</p>
<p>“Just tell me what you want and let’s get it over with,” Tony sighed, crossing his arms, channeling snark. “No need to monologue.”</p>
<p>“Stark. You are the only person to ever succeed in making a miniaturized arc reactor,” the man said.</p>
<p>“Way to state the obvious. It only appeared on the headlines of every newspaper in North America,” Tony deadpanned. Peter hid a grin, and it made Tony’s heart lighter. He winked at the kid. </p>
<p>Man bun, as Tony dubbed him in his head, skipped over Tony’s remark. “We want one.”</p>
<p>“What are you going to do if I don’t do what you want?” Tony asked, sighing. “All you villains. So damn predictable! You can’t incapacitate me so much that I die or am unable to build it. Puts you in a bit of a tight spot, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>Tony knew what they were going to say. Nobody captures two people without using one of them against the other. He hoped in his heart he was wrong, but he knew he was always right.</p>
<p>“Yeah, and what about we hurt your son, here?” Man bun pointed at Peter.</p>
<p>Tony’s world spun to a stop, even though it was just as he predicted. “You’re not even above hurting minors. Huh.”</p>
<p>“We tried to blow you up and we captured you, where do you think our morals stand,” Man bun snorted.</p>
<p>“Who’s ‘we’, exactly?” Tony challenged, genuinely curious.</p>
<p>“A group of emerging scientists. Weapon engineers. I can’t believe you haven’t used the arc reactor energy for a weapon, imagine the money you could make!” Man bun exclaimed.</p>
<p>“I’ve got enough money for two billion lifetimes. You want money? I can give you money,” Tony offered, trying to remain as calm as possible. </p>
<p>“Can’t buy brains with money.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure it’s on the black market somewhere,” Tony sniffed.</p>
<p>“We’re not open to negotiating.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m not building an arc reactor for you, and I’m certainly not gonna let you hurt my kid-”</p>
<p>“<em>Your</em> kid?” Peter interrupted. Tony cursed internally at the slip up.</p>
<p>“-so I think you’re out of options,” he continued, ignoring Peter.</p>
<p>“It’s not a matter of you <em>letting</em> us hurt <em>your</em> kid,” Man bun smirked at the mistake as well. “If you don’t build an arc reactor, we hurt him. You too, maybe. You don’t get to tell us what to do.”</p>
<p>“Mr Stark, I’d rather be hurt than have humanity destroyed,” Peter said before anyone else could get a word in.</p>
<p>“You’re a <em>kid</em>. I’m not letting you get hurt. You’re my responsibility and I’ve already put you in enough danger already, let alone be subjected to whatever knives and methods this group of amateur scientists have in store for you,” Tony snapped, trying to hide how shaky he was behind carefully channelled frustration. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been tortured before, Pete, but it’s <em>not fun</em>. It is not a show of how strong you are, proof of being a ‘real hero’.” He made quotation marks with his fingers.</p>
<p>“I’m not proving anything-”</p>
<p>“Save the family feud for later!” Man bun interrupted. “Stark. You gonna build one for us?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Tony spat immediately, turning back to glare at him.</p>
<p>“Drug him.”</p>
<p>Hands belonging to men in white coats suddenly reached out and grabbed onto his limbs, holding Tony in place against the wall, and although Peter managed to put up more of a fight, he found himself pinned to the ground. Tony grit his teeth as a man with a surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face stabbed another syringe into the skin on his neck, and his world went woozy. Through a heavy gaze, Tony saw Peter go limp on the ground, and the next thing he knew, Tony too was slumped against the wall, barely conscious.</p>
<p>“Take him.”</p>
<p>Peter’s body got dragged away, and Tony closed his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What??? Three comments on the first day is like,,, a new record for me. Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos or a comment, you have no idea how much that means to me??? I love you????</p>
<p>I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every three-ish days. I've still got work to do with school and stuff as well as editing but it's all mostly written, so expect a pretty consistent posting schedule. </p>
<p>Anyway enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony blinked his eyes open slowly, regaining feeling into his limbs. He flexed his fingers.</p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p>He jumped and his eyes darted to the speaker. He sighed in relief when he saw Peter sitting on the floor beside his head, a bit bloody and bruised, but <em>alive.</em> He reached out for him and he met his hand, grasping it tightly until Tony regained his surroundings. Something in Tony felt that he should be ashamed for depending on the kid to hold his hand through this, but he was so pathetically grateful to see his face that he didn’t really care.</p>
<p>“So, how was it?” Tony grimaced, taking in Peter’s wounds. His left eye was bruised, and there was blood trickling down from his hairline.</p>
<p>“Not so bad,” Peter said, shrugging. Tony snorted skeptically and sat up fully, leaning against the wall beside the kid.</p>
<p>‘Not so bad’. <em>What bullshit</em>. They wouldn’t go easy on Peter just because he was a kid; they wanted something from Tony, and they weren’t going to stop until they got it or until they were dead. Tony hoped the latter would come before the former, but either way, Peter was downplaying it just for his sake and he wished he didn’t feel the need to.</p>
<p>“What did they do?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer, but he needed to know. Images of Peter with an arc reactor, taking his place in the story, being waterboarded and hurt and starved flashed in his mind. Tony blinked quickly to get back to the present.</p>
<p>“Uh, I got over the drug pretty quick. Metabolism and all that,” Peter explained, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes. “They were gonna dunk me underwater but I kept turning my head, and one of them punched me, which was how I got this.” He pointed at his black eye. “And while I was kinda still dazed from the punch, they shoved my head under and I hit my forehead against the edge of the metal basin or whatever they were using. It stopped bleeding a few minutes ago, though.”</p>
<p>“You okay otherwise? Morals haven’t changed?” Tony asked, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up from guilt, and there was a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. He tried to keep his tone light but his voice just came out strained.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>The lack of speaking told Tony that he was lying. Usually Peter, if he was actually okay, would be reassuring Tony like crazy. None of those one-word sentences. Tony swallowed a lump in his throat and looked him in the eye. “What else did they do to you?”</p>
<p>Peter looked up, surprised.</p>
<p>“I can tell when you’re not telling me everything. I used to be a teenager too, believe it or not,” Tony huffed in pretend annoyance. He tried to hide how his hands were shaking by clasping them together. </p>
<p>“They, uh, injected me with some stuff,” Peter said, his voice trembling.</p>
<p>Tony’s heart dropped to his feet. “What stuff?” </p>
<p>“They said it was an experimental drug. The government paid them to make it for when they captured Captain America, but the project got scrapped when they found someone who’d do it for less,” Peter dawdled, growing quieter with every word.</p>
<p>Tony winced when he heard the name he tried hard to forget about, but shoved it aside. “Just tell me what it was.”</p>
<p>“I can’t stick to walls anymore,” Peter admitted. He was staring at his hands.</p>
<p>“<em>What?”</em> Tony asked in disbelief.

</p>
<p>
“Took away my powers,” Peter said shakily. He was wringing his hands over and over in his lap, a nervous tick that both he and Tony shared. 
</p>
<p>
  “They can’t do that,” Tony said, in straight up denial. His brain was buzzing, going through everything he knew about biology, about chemistry, anything he could think of to figure out what combination of chemicals or genes or whatever they used. It wasn’t possible. It <em>shouldn’t</em> be possible. The changes were in his DNA, and they can’t change that.
</p>
<p>
  “Well, they did,” Peter said, looking at the ground.
</p>
<p>
 “Did they tell you anything else? Did you see anything? The closest exit or whatever?” Tony pressed. They needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Tony suspected torture, he suspected pain and starvation and dehydration, but he was definitely not expecting them to <em>perform experiments on a child no less.</em>
</p>
<p>
  “No. And they shoved a bag over my head so I wasn’t able to see anything,” Peter informed him. His voice was still tight.
</p>
<p>
  Tony sighed, trying not to curl into a ball of guilt. That wouldn’t help anyone, and he needed to stay strong for the kid, needed to find a way out so they could get home to Pepper and Rhodey and the kid’s Aunt May as soon as possible. As a genius, the adult, and as a role model, Tony <em>had</em> to figure it out; Peter had already placed so much faith in him. Tony put two fingers on his wrist and willed his pulse to calm down.
</p>
<p>
“We’ll get out of here,” Tony promised. “And anything they can do, I can do better. Whatever they injected into you, I’m sure I can find something to reverse it.” He played up the whole ‘certified genius’ act.
</p>
<p>
 Empty promises. Tony wasn’t even sure if he could figure it out, he wasn’t that kind of scientist. But it seemed to feed some more energy into the kid.
</p>
<p>
  “It’s just weird, y’know? I’ve gotten used to being able to do things without effort, but everything is just so weak now. It’s like coming home from space after being weightless all the time. Like the astronauts,” Peter explained, squeezing his bicep as if to check for muscle mass.
</p>
<p>
 Tony hadn’t even thought of that. How heavy everything must feel, after all, the kid did have super-strength. Tony remembered how easy it was to throw things around in the suit, so much that once while he wasn’t wearing one and he tried to pick up a car, he was actually surprised to find that he couldn’t. But Peter didn’t have a strength that he could take off and put away, get used to being a regular human again; he adapted to his strength, and now that it was gone, everything must be so hard.
</p>
<p>
  “Just don’t hold back,” Tony instructed, not sure what else to say.
</p>
<p>
  “I won’t. I don’t have to worry about killing them without my strength,” Peter reassured him. He didn’t look up at Tony, just kept his gaze down.
</p>
<p>
  Guilt was piling on Tony like bricks. He knew that Peter relied heavily on his life as Spider-Man to cope, to feel important, to make a difference. Doing good made him feel good. And if he never got that back, then he wouldn’t be special anymore. Sure, he was a genius, smart in many fields of science, but it wouldn’t be the same. And it was all Tony’s fault that he no longer had his powers. Spider-Man was no more, just a YouTube legend.
</p>
<p>
  Tony worried about that a lot. He too relied on Iron Man to save him, to get him out of tight places, to keep the guilt of his mistakes at bay. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he hadn’t felt the need to fix his mistakes, to do something with his life. If he was honest with himself, he’d probably would have been long dead by now if Iron Man hadn’t been born.
</p>
<p>
  “I’m sorry for putting you in this situation,” Tony apologized, looking down at his own callused hands. There was a lump in his throat and there were tears biting at his eyes but he blinked quickly to keep them from falling. 
</p>
<p>
  Peter nodded. “I am too.”
</p>
<p>
  Tony tried not to let that response bother him.
</p>
<p>
  --
</p>
<p>
 A few hours or maybe even almost a day later (Tony’s internal clock was out of whack from spending so much time awake in general), Man bun came in, closely followed by a few members in white coats, holding clipboards.
</p>
<p>
  It was eerie; all of the people were all the same height, and all had bright, blue eyes, the same colour as the surgical mask they were all wearing. The blue contradicted so much with the white of their skin and outfit that it was impossible not to stare at; it was like they were all clones in a way. He could feel their eyes boring into his skin, and it made a shiver run down his spine.
</p>
<p>
  Tony quickly stood up with his hands in the air as a surrender, and Peter quickly followed suit, copying Tony’s actions. After getting kidnapped multiple times, it was a habit at this point; everything was just so predictable. Tony had recently stopped feeling his heart race in his throat whenever someone entered a room without telling him first, and here he was, back at square one, weary of anyone in the general vicinity. He cursed internally, wondering how long it would take for him to get over it this time around.
</p>
<p>
  “So, how do you feel?” Man bun asked, standing too close to Peter and poking his cheek. 
</p>
<p>
Peter glared at him, a look that could kill. Tony’s stomach jolted when the finger made contact with skin, and he bit his tongue to keep himself from lashing out. He knew that he would just get another sedative injected into his bloodstream if he tried to do anything, he could see the syringe in the hands of a creepy scientist. Although the thought would be there, he would be even more useless if he were unconscious. 
</p>
<p>
  “Try to stick to the wall for us, Spider-Man,” Man bun asked, ignoring Peter’s obvious hatred toward the man.
</p>
<p>
 “I’m not a lab experiment,” he spat back.
</p>
<p>
  “You tell him, kid,” Tony dared.
</p>
<p>
  “Shut up.” A needle was held closely to Tony’s neck, but thankfully didn’t pierce him. The men were all crowding him, the bright blue eyes cold and lifeless as they stared at his exposed skin, almost hungry.
</p>
<p>
  “Did you know that the needle held close to your daddy’s neck there contains a nonbenzodiazepine sedative-hypnotic? Well, we’ve already passed the recommended amount in his bloodstream the first time we injected it; who knows what it’ll do to him if we inject it for the third time?” Man bun informed him sweetly, and it made Tony want to punch him. “Maybe he won’t wake up.”
</p>
<p>
  Peter met Tony’s eyes, looking at him desperately. <em>Stand your ground, make it difficult for them. If I die, they don’t get what they want,</em> Tony tried to convey through his gaze. He didn’t know how well the message got through, but Peter soon turned his head back to face Man bun and swallowed harshly. 
</p>
<p>
  “Now, try to climb the wall, Spider-Man.”
</p>
<p>
  Peter touched the wall, put his bare foot on it, but it just slid down. “I can’t.”
</p>
<p>
 “Are you sure?”
</p>
<p>
  “Yes.”
</p>
<p>
  “I think you’re lying.”
</p>
<p>
 Peter suddenly lashed out, punching Man bun in the jaw and kneeing him in the gut. Hands forced Tony down but he fought back, grabbing the syringe from somebody’s hand and stabbing it into whatever skin he could find; thankfully belonging to someone in a lab coat, and not Peter. He couldn’t see what was going on too well with all the limbs, but he swept somebody’s legs out from under them and punched a neck before being shoved against the wall.
</p>
<p>
  “You’ll pay for this,” Man bun whispered into his ear. Tony was satisfied to see blood dripping down from his cheek.
</p>
<p>
  But a solid shove head-first into the wall made his world go dark.
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tony does a lot of passing out in this fic lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You guys are all so kind ashfjlglkl I love you all &lt;3<br/>This one's a little shorter but no shortage of guilty Tony here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Tony came to with a pounding headache, Peter wasn’t there.</p>
<p>There was blood on the ground. Probably his own, he figured, as he pressed a hand to his forehead and it came back bloody. A plastic water bottle was left, intentionally by the looks of it, beside the door, but Tony made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t drink it unless absolutely necessary. And even then, if he were dead, he wouldn’t have to build the arc reactor. Maybe death by dehydration isn’t that bad.</p>
<p>If he were dead, then they wouldn’t be able to get what they want. He was the only person alive (as far as current knowledge goes) who knew how to build a proper, functioning miniaturized arc reactor. But leaving Peter, leaving him to be subjected to whatever they were doing to him, it just didn’t sit right with Tony. He had to save Peter first, at all costs. The kid had done <em>nothing </em>to deserve being in this mess.</p>
<p>Where was Rhodey? Rhodey <em>had</em> to have seen. He had to be looking. There was a tracker in the Iron Man suit, implanted since he disappeared in Siberia (Rhodey had refused to try on the leg braces unless Tony added it), and of course there was the tracker in Peter’s suit, even if they had broken the tracker in Tony’s suit. But what if the kid had removed it again, disabled the coding again? Tony cursed. Peter was too smart for his own good. Tony just hoped that he had learned his lesson from the whole Ferry Incident to not mess with his tech. </p>
<p>Oh, God. When Tony learned about the building collapsing on his kid, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. It was his fault. He was the one who took away the suit, who yelled at him, took away his chance and the protection of the suit, and all Peter was doing was helping and then he<em> almost</em> died and here he was still <em>almost dying</em> because Tony couldn’t stop dragging people into his messes.</p>
<p>Peter being gone gave Tony time to think. And sometimes he didn’t like where his brain was going. Tony tried to focus on things that would actually help.</p>
<p>Whatever they injected into Peter’s bloodstream wore off. And Man bun and his team of stupid experimental scientists predicted that, given the fact that Man bun had called Peter a liar. So whatever they had given him must be a chemical compound that would get diluted over time; there was no DNA change. Tony could breathe again, knowing that small bit of information. It wasn’t permanent. </p>
<p>But who knew? They were obviously trying to make it last longer, to improve it. They were writing things down on clipboards. And that really wasn’t the point, the point was that Peter was being experimented on, being tortured, and Tony was just sitting there.</p>
<p>Peter not telling Tony that the experimental compound had worn off wasn’t sitting right with Tony. Peter told him <em>everything</em>, it didn’t matter if it was TMI, every single thing that happened in his life, Tony was sure to find out. But Peter apparently didn’t trust him with that information? Tony clasped and unclasped his hands over and over again, thinking. If he had just <em>told</em> Tony, then they could’ve done a carefully orchestrated attack instead of whatever improv that had gone on earlier. </p>
<p>Why hadn’t Peter told him?</p>
<p>Tony shook his head at his own thoughts, getting up and pacing around the small room. It wasn’t Peter’s fault. If it were anyone’s, it was Tony's, because he was just sitting there, not doing anything and just waiting, waiting, as if that would help anyone, as if that would help them escape this mess that Tony had gotten them both into.</p>
<p>But there was nothing to work with. Tony didn’t have the arc reactor anymore, so he couldn’t build something out of that. He couldn’t get out of the room, the door was electrical with a key swipe only on the one side. He wasn’t strong enough to break it down. If he hadn’t stopped experimenting with merging his suit with his body, if Pepper hadn’t convinced him not to install Extremis within his own mind…</p>
<p>There was nothing he could do about it now. Tony passed the window and tried to peek out of it, but he could only see a long, concrete hallway. They were at the very end of it, and Tony couldn’t see past the corner. But there were people coming, their forms backlit so he couldn’t see their faces, and Tony quickly hid behind the wall beside the door.</p>
<p>He heard the swipe of a keycard and a beep, and Peter’s body got thrown into the cell. Tony shoved his foot in the door before they could slam the door shut, pain erupting in his toes, and he was suddenly face to face with two very strong men in white coats. He raised his fists, ready to fight.</p>
<p>“Where do you think you’re going?” one of them said gruffly, and Tony dodged the initial push but he was eventually shoved backwards into the room, the door slamming shut immediately. He really was nothing without his suit, as much as he hated to admit it. He needed Iron Man. He needed to be saved, a stupid, pathetic damsel in distress. Where was Rhodey when he needed him?</p>
<p>Tony shook his head at his own train of thoughts and turned his attention to Peter’s limp form on the ground, kneeling beside him and putting two fingers on his neck, fearing the worst. But there was still the steady beat of life under his skin, and Tony mentally thanked the Gods above for small miracles. Peter began to stir at the touch, and Tony did a quick survey of his body before he fully woke up, looking for any new injuries and found none. But who knew what they did to him? Stuffed him full of drugs and nearly drowned him? Peter’s hair and the front of the hospital gown was wet, and Tony’s heart skipped a beat.</p>
<p>“M’Stark?”</p>
<p>“That’s me,” Tony reassured the kid, a hand on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“They did it again. Powers. Gone,” Peter said, his voice sounding thick with tears. He made no move to sit up.</p>
<p>“It’ll wear off,” Tony said uselessly. He sounded apathetic even to his own ears and he cringed.</p>
<p>“It’s your fault.”</p>
<p>Tony stopped breathing for a second, but found himself nodding in agreement all the same. Something was a bit off about that statement, especially since it came out of Peter’s mouth. “Kid?”</p>
<p>“If you just give them what they want-”</p>
<p>“You know I can’t. Peter, sit up please,” Tony begged. He needed to see his eyes. He needed to see if Peter knew what he was saying, if he really meant those words.</p>
<p>“Too weak,” Peter mumbled.</p>
<p>“Peter. Pete. Kid. Look at me.” Tony put his face in Peter’s gaze, only about an inch above the ground, his limbs shaking.</p>
<p>His eyes were unfocused and shiny, bright with something that didn’t belong to him. Mania or fever. Tony put a hand on his forehead to check for the latter, but Peter instantly recoiled and flinched so hard that he banged his head on the wall behind him. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry. Pete. Pete, please look at me,” Tony said, afraid to move any closer but needing to know if he was lucid. His blood was ice in his veins and he felt frozen in place.</p>
<p>“It hurts,” he moaned.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“‘Cause of you,” he said accusingly.</p>
<p>Tony took a deep breath, and gave up. “You’re right,” he admitted dejectedly, sighing in defeat. If Peter was drugged up enough to not know what he was saying, there was no point in trying to get through to him. Besides, he was correct.</p>
<p>He backed up and sat against the opposite wall, across from Peter’s still form. His eyes were still closed. And as much as Tony knew that the kid (probably) didn’t mean it, that he was just hurt and probably drugged up beyond belief, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he knew what he was saying. Tony knew that it was his fault that Peter was hurt, that he had been tortured, but hearing it from the kid had been something else. Especially since Peter was so against it being Tony’s fault at first. Especially since Peter was so willing to sacrifice himself at first.</p>
<p>A heaviness set in Tony’s chest and he looked at the kid, whose breathing had evened out and peace was written across his face. Sleep. All of Tony’s rests so far have been induced by drugs and punches, and he was exhausted. He supposed that a quick nap would be doable, while the kid was asleep as well. But if they came and there was nobody to protect Peter, then Tony wouldn’t be able to live with himself.</p>
<p>He couldn’t live with himself as is.</p>
<p>Save the world or save the kid. The answer was obvious to Tony, but he didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he could hold on with the kid’s blood on his conscience, as it was his fault he was here in the first place and there was nothing he could do while Peter took the blunt of the work and got himself tortured while Tony just sat there. He wasn’t helping. He was making it worse.</p>
<p>Tony curled up against the wall and waited, listening for any movement outside and keeping a watchful eye on the kid. </p>
<p>He wished Rhodey would hurry up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ALMOST 1000 HITSSSSSSS<br/>I love you all sm &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re being selfish!”</p>
<p>“Peter, you’re not yourself-”</p>
<p>“You’re not the one being <em>stabbed </em>with needles every hour! You’re not the one being held underwater!” Peter practically screamed. "They locked me in a box for three hours and I couldn't do <em>anything</em>!"</p>
<p>He was curled up in the corner of the cell, crying his eyes out. Tony was standing as far away as possible to not scare the kid, but he needed to be closer. He took a small, hesitant step forward, his hands in the air to show that he wasn’t holding anything, that he wasn’t going to hurt him, but Peter was having none of it. </p>
<p>“Don’t come near me!” he yelled, a hand up as if that would protect him. Tony stopped moving, staying as still as he possibly could, his arms still in the same position. </p>
<p>“Drink some water, please, Peter,” he said, trying to keep his voice as level and as calm as possible. Tony pushed the bottled water that had been replenished earlier closer to Peter with his foot. He had checked to make sure it was sealed before even thinking about cracking it open, and had drunk some himself to make sure it was okay. “You’re dehydrated. Please.”</p>
<p>“I’m not taking <em>anything</em> from you!” Peter sobbed, staring at the offending water bottle like it was a grenade about to go off at any second. He tensed up, pressing himself as far back against the wall as he could, looking like he was trying to become one with the wall.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to hurt you!” Tony said, raising his tone of voice to get through to the kid, but it only seemed to scare him more.</p>
<p>“No!” </p>
<p>Tony gave up and backed up against the wall again before he would fall, his whole body shaking almost as much as Peter’s. He hugged himself and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself together, tasting blood. Crying wouldn’t do anything to help the situation. <em>Stay strong stay strong stay strongstaystrongstrongstrongstrong-</em></p>
<p>Peter had returned from his seventh round of torture, his eyes bloodshot, clear needle punctures dotting his arms, burning with fever. He threw up a couple of times, mostly water, so he was definitely dehydrated. He was delusional for sure; there was no denying it at this point, but a small part of Tony (actually quite a large part) was saying that the drugs just brought up words that Peter was thinking. Like with alcohol, it just removed the filter. No more caring about how other people feel.</p>
<p>Tony shivered, closing his eyes. He was stuck in a cell that smelled like vomit, he had a migraine from stress and the noise that made him blind in one eye, and he was nearing his breaking point. He had no idea how long it had been since they’d been captured. A few days? A week? Tony was feeling the weakening effects of hunger and prayed that while they were busy trying to drown Peter that they were at least feeding him; with a metabolism like his, he was bound to die of starvation quickly. Tony tried not to think about that, but it was too plausible, too realistic...</p>
<p>Every time after Peter returned from whatever they were doing to him, he would be out of it. He was weak, his powers gone (hopefully temporarily), and he’d yell insults at Tony. He was delusional, he didn’t quite know what he was saying, but it <em>hurt</em>. It was like Peter knew exactly what to say to make the guilt feel even heavier, to rip Tony’s heart out of his chest and break it into a million pieces. Peter was angry. He was vulnerable, he was hurt, he had been stripped of the most important thing in his life, and he had to get it out at someone. And even if he was speaking the truth, Tony just wished he’d shut up because it would make him shaky and panicky and he’d have to physically make an effort to keep himself together.</p>
<p>When Peter was gone, off being tortured and poked at and experimented on, Tony would curl up in the corner and cry. He’d think about not drinking anything and just <em>dying</em> from dehydration. The only thing keeping him going was the thought that if he did die, there was a possibility that they would simply dispose of Peter or keep using him as a lab rat, and Tony wouldn’t be able to properly rest knowing that. He had to save Peter or die trying. But there was nothing he could do.</p>
<p>
  <em>Where was Rhodey.</em>
</p>
<p>“You’re not even sorry,” Peter accused weakly. </p>
<p>Tony slid down the wall, coming to a rest on the floor, holding his head in his hands as if that would alleviate the headache. He couldn’t take it anymore. “<em>I am. </em>I’m so sorry, Pete, please listen to me.”</p>
<p>“You said you’d save us. You said we’d be saved,” Peter whimpered.</p>
<p>“I know,” Tony whispered, his heart shattering. </p>
<p>“You don’t even care about me.”</p>
<p>Tony held his breath. He was feeling something bubbling up inside of him, and whether it was rage or tears or vomit he didn’t know; but he knew he’d explode soon. If he could think for a second, if he could just get his genius brain working again-</p>
<p>“Please, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>The pleading tone in Peter’s voice finally made Tony crack. He stood up and punched the wall, pain erupting at the site of impact, but he didn’t care; he brought both fists up and pounded on the solid door, aggravating the injury. “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it!”</p>
<p>Peter didn’t react to the sudden outburst. There wasn’t any satisfaction on his face, no remark.</p>
<p>“I’ll build your fucking arc reactor, okay?!” he screamed, too emotional to care about if they could hear him or not. “Leave my kid alone! I’ll build it!”</p>
<p>Tony fell against the door, his legs giving out. He was openly sobbing, his injured hand and his head were pounding in time with his rapid heartbeat. The heaviness that had sat in his chest and stayed there ever since he had woken up that first day felt a million times larger and heavier. He couldn’t breathe. Guilt was piling on his shoulders and he felt like throwing up, something burning the back of his throat. He didn’t dare turn around to check on Peter, he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him in pain again.</p>
<p>
  <em>In pain because of him.</em>
</p>
<p>“Knew you’d break.” The door swung open and Tony nearly fell. Man bun caught him under his armpits and Tony recoiled, preferring the ground to the sick freak touching him. He held tightly onto the doorframe to keep himself upright.</p>
<p>Tony didn’t want anything to do with himself anymore. He felt disgusted with himself, having let Peter suffer so greatly only to have Tony finally succumb. All that pain would be for nothing, but still, Tony kind of had a plan. Or at least he hoped he did, it was hard to think when he was calming himself down from a near-mental breakdown. He was still breathing heavily, clutching his injured hand close to his chest as it throbbed, and his vision was still red and distorted with anger.</p>
<p>“Come with me, will you? And don’t worry about your son, there. We’ll fatten him up and get that drug out of his system. I hope we didn’t do any lasting damage.” Man bun clucked his tongue in disappointment. “What a shame if we did.”</p>
<p>Tony fought the urge to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze the life out of him. He grit his teeth and let himself be led down the long hallway, and around the corner that he never got to see past.</p>
<p>It wasn’t anything special. Just more hallway, and a couple of rooms lining the sides. Man bun opened a door and gestured Tony through, who followed suit reluctantly. His hands were shaking by his sides and he kept them balled into tight fists, trying to convince himself that making a break for it wasn’t worth it. He was greatly outnumbered here. And he wouldn’t <em>dare</em> leave the kid here alone.</p>
<p>He entered some sort of lab, right out of a high school science classroom. There was a long, black counter with several natural gas spouts and sinks, along with a pile of materials in the back. Tony recognized a few of the cylinders as his own; the familiar Stark logo on the sides made him shiver with anxiety. It was just like in Afghanistan. They had gotten his weapons, and they wanted him to build something worse.</p>
<p>“Where did you get those?” Tony asked, pointing at the missiles. He tried to keep his voice level but it just came out tight.</p>
<p>“Off the black market. Around and about. I heard they were quite useful to you during that time with the Ten Rings,” Man bun said sweetly. </p>
<p>Tony swallowed hard. Everything was just like in Afghanistan; right down to the materials. At least he wasn’t in a cave, at least he didn’t have shrapnel in his heart, at least he didn’t have to carry a car battery around. Simple pleasures. He took a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart and turned to Man bun.</p>
<p>“When are you going to tell me your name?” Tony asked with feigned annoyance. Inside, he was still shaking, but he tried to channel most of the snark and wit into his words.</p>
<p>“I prefer to remain anonymous. It’s a lot easier to avoid getting arrested while doing illegal things if you’re unable to be identified,” Man bun informed him uselessly. </p>
<p>Tony scoffed.</p>
<p>“This is where you’re going to be working. Meals will be brought twice a day. Extra materials will be provided upon request, there’s a buzzer here.” He pointed at the wall beside the door at a little speaker with a button.</p>
<p>“When I’m done. What will you do with us?” Tony asked, almost dreading the answer.</p>
<p>What would they do? Hold him hostage and for ransom? Keep him in a half-dead half-alive state, too weak to fight back but not quite yet in mortal danger just because he was useful to them? Keep forcing him to work and work and work until they have enough weapons for world domination? Or maybe just drop him off in the middle of wilderness for him to either find his way back or die. Maybe Tony himself would become a lab rat along with Peter, both undergoing surgeries and procedures until they weren’t human anymore.</p>
<p>“That’s for me to know and you to find out. Too many questions, now. Get to work!” Man bun gave Tony a little shove, and the door shut behind him with an echo around the room.</p>
<p>And Tony was alone again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Almost a hundred kudos??? <br/>I know I say it a lot but I really really really appreciate each and every one of you &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t making the arc reactor.</p>
<p>No, Tony wasn’t stupid. He knew where his priorities stood. But he also noticed the red blinking light of a camera in the far right corner of the room, keeping a careful watch. Tony stayed on perfect behavior; he thanked the men when his meals arrived, he didn’t ask for any more, he stayed focused on the task at hand. He was making an electronic device that could output a signal. A jazzed-up walkie-talkie.</p>
<p>At least now he had a sense of time. Meals twice a day. He’d eaten four times so far, and he prayed that they were also feeding Peter.</p>
<p>God. The kid. Tony just wanted to check on him, to make sure they weren’t still injecting whatever the hell it was into his system, but he didn’t dare ask; he didn’t know what they would do if he did, and frankly, he didn’t want to know. Tony stayed focused on the small glimmer of hope that Man bun kept his promise; after all, he’d kept all of them so far. The meals. Letting Tony work. The bare minimum. He kept him alive.</p>
<p>The blueprints that Tony worked on were written in a code language that he had made up when he was five. It had always been useful to him, especially when Obie used to stick his nose into Tony’s personal projects. The finished blueprint looked like it belonged to the arc reactor, but in reality, it was something much, much different. If they tried to hook it up to something, then it would explode; kind of like a selective bomb. If it received an external source of input other than what it was intended to receive, then it would go off.</p>
<p>He knew that without a doubt, they were suspecting that he’d make something else. So as long as it glowed blue, as long as it was small, then the idiots wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. But with Peter’s life on the line, he had to make sure it was done quickly; if they figured out what he was making, he bet that they wouldn’t hesitate to go in for the kill. There hadn’t been any hesitation so far. They all knew exactly what they needed and what they wanted to do.</p>
<p>“How’s it going?”</p>
<p>“Jesus!” Tony jumped and turned around quickly. “Never interrupt a scientist in their church. Never.”</p>
<p>Man bun scoffed and strode over, looking over Tony’s shoulder at the blueprints on the counter. “That’s not English.”</p>
<p>“How observant,” Tony mumbled, going to move the blueprints out of his view, but Man bun put his hand on the paper to keep it from moving. </p>
<p>“I was looking at that.” He examined the blueprints, his brow furrowed. “Why isn’t it in English?”</p>
<p>“Because I don’t want you to be able to recreate the arc reactor,” Tony half-lied. </p>
<p>Man bun glared at him, letting Tony know that he had said the wrong thing. “What language is it in, then?”</p>
<p>“I made it up,” Tony smirked.</p>
<p>Man bun slammed Tony’s head down on the counter suddenly, moving with remarkable agility. Tony cried out and slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. Man bun then pulled on his hair to haul him up and crouched down until they were eye level, Tony blinking away hot tears of pain in his eyes and steeling himself.</p>
<p>“Rewrite them. In English. Little Spider-Man will pay for this,” Man bun said in a low voice, anger radiating off of him. He pulled harder on Tony’s hair for emphasis.</p>
<p>“Don’t hurt the kid,” Tony dared say, amid knowing there would be no effect. His head felt like it was radiating heat and his hair being pulled made it feel like his skin was being ripped off. </p>
<p>“That’s not up to you.” Man bun threw Tony to the ground again. He kicked Tony’s side hard before turning around to go, leaving Tony on the floor, curled around his injured ribs and holding a hand to his head. </p>
<p>His hand came back bloody. Of course. At least he was ninety percent certain that his ribs weren’t broken, although they burned. </p>
<p>He had to step up his pace. He threw away the blueprints (they were mostly to satisfy his capturers, to show that he was working on something resembling the arc reactor), and worked from memory. That way he wouldn’t have to rewrite them and risk being exposed. </p>
<p>Tony’s anxiety kept him awake. He didn’t even try to sleep. By consequence, by the time he had received his sixth meal, he was finished his glowing, blue walkie-talkie. He quickly pressed a button on the side of the casing of the false arc reactor, and held it very closely to his ear so that the sound wouldn’t carry over if there was also a hidden microphone around.</p>
<p>Tony switched through channels until he found one belonging to the military. He had no idea if he was still in America, but he hoped that they would help nonetheless.</p>
<p>“This is Tony Stark. Who am I speaking to? Over,” Tony whispered into the ‘reactor’, carefully bending over to hide the movement of his lips from the camera.</p>
<p>“Tony Stark? This is Charles Q. Brown Jr, Chief of Staff of the US Air Force. Over,” a voice responded, and Tony could breathe.</p>
<p>“I’m being held against my will along with another prisoner. Trace the signal. Copy?” Tony asked. He could hear his pulse in his head.</p>
<p>“Copy that, sir. Stay on the channel until we can find you. Over,” the chief of staff said.</p>
<p>“Roger that. Over,” Tony said, hearing footsteps on his side. “They are coming. Over.”</p>
<p>“Sir-”</p>
<p>Tony didn’t get to hear the rest of the transmission, as the door burst open and Tony quickly pretended that he was inspecting the finished arc reactor. Man bun strode into his field of view, a big toothy grin on his face, but anger clear in his eyes. Tony tried not to look as shaken as he felt, and cleared his throat before carefully choosing his words. “Dinner time already? I swear it’s only been an hour.”</p>
<p>“Who were you talking to, Mr Stark?” Man bun asked, feigning ignorance.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” Tony said, playing dumb. Two can play that game.</p>
<p>“I said, who were you talking to? Having little visions of the air force coming to rescue you? Perhaps talking to the chief of staff himself?” Man bun smiled, showing off yellow teeth. He shoved his face into Tony’s.</p>
<p>Tony’s heart dropped, but he kept his expression steady, leaning back to avoid smelling Man bun’s breath. “I’m not schizophrenic. If anything, you’re the paranoid one.”</p>
<p>“Give it.” He held out his open palm.</p>
<p>“It’s not finished yet.” </p>
<p>“Give. Me. The. Arc. Reactor,” Man bun said through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>Tony knew there was no talking his way out of this one. “Well, technically, since it’s not the arc reactor, then-”</p>
<p>The corner of a table was shoved into Tony’s stomach, knocking him off guard for a second, but he was quick to grab a hammer from the ground and he threw it in Man bun’s direction. He heard it collide with something, making a dull thud, then a sense of satisfaction coursed through him when he heard a groan of pain. Tony got the higher ground while pocketing his invention, jumping on the long counter and kicking the valves of the natural gas spouts open with his feet. He grabbed a sheet of metal that was leaning against the wall and held it up like a shield, slicing his fingers open on the sharp sides.</p>
<p>“Give it,” Man bun growled, sporting two black eyes; one was Peter’s doing from the first day, and the other was fresh from the hammer. Blood was dripping down from the site of impact. He threw the offensive hammer at Tony, who blocked it using the sheet of metal. The edges dug further into his skin. </p>
<p>“I’ve done nothing but disobey you so far, what makes you think I’d suddenly decide to follow rules?” Tony snarked, staring down at him. Quick footsteps were heard down the hallway, signaling that more were coming. He felt his heart pounding in his throat, about a million times faster than his resting rate, and the adrenaline was making his limbs shaky. His knees felt like they were going to give away any second and he wanted to run far, far away.</p>
<p>“What about your kid?” Man bun queried, grinning up at him.</p>
<p>Tony paused. “What about him?”</p>
<p>“You know what happens when you don’t do as I say,” Man bun threatened. </p>
<p>He took Tony’s hesitation as an opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him and he fell backwards onto the ground below, hitting his head on the wall behind him. He saw stars for a second before standing up quickly, still wielding the sharp piece of metal. Blood was dripping past his hands and down his wrist, but he was numb to the pain due to adrenaline; he hadn’t even felt the initial cuts.</p>
<p>“We’ll make sure he never walks again,” Man bun continued, picking up a fire extinguisher and holding it over his shoulder. Tony launched the sheet of metal at him, slicing his skin even more, but missed; he ducked back behind the counter for protection. He spotted a lighter among the random tools around the place and picked it up, the plastic casing becoming slick with his blood. </p>
<p>As Man bun rounded the side of the counter, Tony jumped up and flicked on the lighter next to one of the natural gas spouts. It quickly caught, exploding into a whoosh of flames. Tony did the same to all of them, then lit the blueprints on fire and threw them into a pile of wood that quickly caught. If the fire spread to the old Stark missiles, the whole building and everyone in it would be a goner. <em>Good riddance.</em></p>
<p>Man bun seemed to realize that and used the fire extinguisher he was holding to try to put out the fires, and Tony made a break for it, dropping the lighter and running toward the exit. <em>Get Peter and go.</em></p>
<p>But he ran right into a wall of white coats. Fists were being thrown and Tony did his best to dodge them, but he was greatly outnumbered. </p>
<p>A well-delivered kick left him dizzy, and by the next hit to the head, he was gone.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Tony woke up in the same cell, with Peter beside him. Once the kid saw he was awake, he quickly retreated to the corner.</p>
<p>Tony felt his pockets for the makeshift walkie-talkie, but they were empty. He just hoped the Air Force had enough time to trace the signal before the men in white coats stopped it. Rhodey worked with them. Rhodey would come rescue them, and everything would be okay, and they’d live, and he’d be able to breathe properly for the first time in a week.</p>
<p>“I made a signal,” Tony told Peter, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor and leaning heavily against the wall. He had obviously been injected again, his eyes were unfocused and shiny and he was having trouble keeping himself upright. “They’re coming to save us.”</p>
<p>“And if they don’t?” Peter asked softly. His lip was bleeding, and there was an open wound above his eyebrow that definitely needed stitches. Tony's eyes followed the trail of blood from the cut all the way down his face, where it was dripping off of his chin and onto the hard ground.</p>
<p>He looked down at his own injured hands. They were still red with fresh blood, and he shoved them in his shirt fabric to try to stem the bleeding. “They have to.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to be hurt anymore,” Peter admitted.</p>
<p>“I know.” Tony didn’t want to go through this anymore. He didn’t want the little sliver of hope to be crushed by Peter’s drug-induced cynicism.</p>
<p>“They hurt me. When they found out you didn’t make it,” Peter said, his voice going tight like he was going to cry. “Why didn’t you make it?”</p>
<p>“I’m trying to keep the world safe,” Tony said, even though he knew that it would have no effect. His head was pounding from being shoved around so much and he was exhausted from not having slept in God knows how long. He rubbed at his eyes, leaving blood on his face. </p>
<p>“Do you want me dead?” Peter asked, and he sounded so small and dejected.</p>
<p>“God. No, no way. Why would you ever think that?” Tony asked, blinking away his own tears.</p>
<p>“You keep getting me hurt.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you dead. I don’t want you <em>hurt.</em>” Tony stressed, looking up at the door so that he didn’t have to look at Peter. He couldn’t.</p>
<p>“But you do! You’re not helping,” he sobbed. “I hate you.”</p>
<p>“You don’t. Don’t say that.” Tony shook his head, looking at Peter, who was finally meeting his gaze. </p>
<p>“I<em> hate</em> you,” he repeated, mania clear in his eyes. “And I <em>mean</em> it.”</p>
<p>“Stop. Peter,” Tony sighed. Guilt was making it hard to breathe. “Please.”</p>
<p>“<em>I hate you.” </em></p>
<p>Tony gave up and hugged himself, ignoring the pain in his fingers when he gripped his bloody shirt tight. He just had to hold on. People were coming. People knew. They would come and they would be saved, and Peter would be happy, and the injection would wear off, and they’d all live happily ever after. He just had to wait and hope. He could do that. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered. Peter was silent, but his eyes were open and a steady stream of tears was leaking down his cheeks. </p>
<p>A few heavy minutes passed in silence, and a commotion was heard outside. Tony stood up quickly and peeked out the window in time to see a white coat be thrown against the wall. </p>
<p>“Peter, they’re coming,” Tony said, turning to him. Peter didn’t move, and Tony knelt down beside him. “Peter.”</p>
<p>Tony gently touched his shoulder, ready for a reaction, but there was none. He squeezed harder, shaking him a bit. “Pete. Come <em>on</em>.”</p>
<p>He didn’t stir. Tony’s hand instantly went to his neck, and his heart dropped. There was a pulse, sure, but it was dangerously slow. Tony placed a hand under Peter’s nose to make sure he was breathing, then jumped and nearly hit him in the face when the door burst open with a loud bang. Tony’s heart pounded in his ears as he turned around, praying, hoping...</p>
<p>War Machine stood in the doorway, all grand and scary, towering over the two. Tony felt dizzy with relief. The pain in his hands and his head felt worse now that it wasn’t masked with worry and adrenaline, and he nearly passed out then and there. <em>Rhodey</em>. Rhodey was here to save them. It was all worth it in the end, the waiting, the holding off, the fight. It was worth it.</p>
<p> “Help him,” Tony croaked, before he lost the fight with unconsciousness and his head hit the ground.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Home again! <br/>But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop torturing Tony lmao</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tony. Tony. Come on, man. I’ve been searching for days, now, don’t give up on me yet.”</p>
<p>“Rhodey?” </p>
<p>Tony’s eyes refused to focus. Everything just looked like floating blobs. His ears were ringing and the noise sounded like it was all being forced through thick cotton. </p>
<p>“Yup. Keep those eyes open for me, ‘kay?” Rhodey was holding a towel to Tony’s hands and the pressure<em> hurt.</em></p>
<p>“Peter?” Tony asked, trying to move his hands out of Rhodey’s grip but Rhodey held on tight.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about him right now.”</p>
<p>Tony was on a stretcher, strapped down to a spinal board. Everything hurt and there was the constant tug of unconsciousness threatening to pull him under. His head hadn’t stopped pounding since the first day and he felt sick with guilt and worry and pain still, even after being rescued. The fact that Rhodey didn’t give him a straight answer was also <em>not helping.</em></p>
<p>“Peter.” Tony fought the restraints on the spinal board but it was useless. A helicopter circled ahead and the noise of sirens and propellers and shouting was making him dizzy. He breathed slowly, trying to postpone vomiting as long as he could.</p>
<p>“We’re getting you into a chopper. They’ll stabilize you in there, just hold on until then,” Rhodey ignored him.  </p>
<p>“‘m I not stable?” Tony tried to move again. </p>
<p>Rhodey pursed his lips in worry. “You’re bleeding quite a bit. And there’s the possibility of second impact syndrome.”</p>
<p>Tony saw the crimson colour of blood staining the towel on his hands. There was a roughness on his face too, and one of SHEILD’s stupid medical officers was holding a towel to his cheek as well. He could see red out of the corner of his eye and smell the copper scent of blood. It made his stomach flip and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes.</p>
<p>“Tony. Eyes open.”</p>
<p>He forced his eyelids to open with a surprising amount of difficulty. “What about his identity? What did you, what did you do with them? The scientists? Where’s my suit? Where’s his suit?”</p>
<p>“Breathe, Tony. They’ve been taken care of,” Rhodey said with grimace, that only meant one thing; they were dead. “And your suit is… irreparable, but the kid’s is intact to a degree.”</p>
<p>Tony didn’t want to say ‘good’ out loud, his tongue felt too heavy to even make a noise, but a weight lifted off his chest and he closed his eyes in relief.</p>
<p>“Eyes open.”</p>
<p>Tony couldn’t answer. His throat was closing up and he felt heavy all over.</p>
<p>“Tony. <em>Please,</em> man.”</p>
<p>The noise of everything faded and he slipped into nothingness.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>A hand was running through Tony’s hair. </p>
<p>He was soft. Warm. Comfy. He felt like he was floating, wrapped in laundry that just got out of the dryer. A sort of satisfaction that filled him up and made him feel whole.</p>
<p>Until he tried to move his fingers.</p>
<p>Tony gasped in pain, his eyes flying open. He tried to sit up, but a sharp stabbing in his chest stopped him and made him cry out. His head was suddenly pounding, and the comfy, warm feeling completely disappeared. He was uncomfortable, choking on his own breath, and a needle was pulling his hand back when he tried to bring it up to his face. An IV. He was overly hot; the blankets were sticking to his skin with sweat, and the hand that was going through his hair stopped.</p>
<p>“Tony,” a feminine voice said gently. It sounded familiar. </p>
<p>“Pepper?” Tony gasped. </p>
<p>“Hey, Tony. Just calm down a bit, okay?” Pepper instructed, the hand returning to his forehead. </p>
<p>Tony stopped to regain his surroundings. The ceiling was tiled and white, the walls were white, the blankets were white, everything was white. Even Pepper’s dress shirt was white, it was blinding and it hurt Tony’s eyes. He was wearing a hospital gown, there was an IV shoved into the back of his hand, and on his hands, oh God. Stitches were covering almost every surface, bloodied and gross. Tony bit his tongue to keep himself from gagging, and out of the corner of his eye he caught Pepper's hand move to hover over the kidney-shaped vomit containers. </p>
<p>“You okay?” she asked gently once Tony had breathed through it.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He grimaced when it sounded gravelly to even his own ears. “What’s the verdict?”</p>
<p>“Your hands are cut, but the doctors say there’s no nerve damage. A concussion. Malnutrition and dehydration, you’re getting fluids from the IV. You’ve got bruises nearly everywhere, Tony. What did they do to you?” Pepper asked, her lips pursed in worry.</p>
<p>“I,” Tony paused. His chest was seizing up and he took a deep breath. “Stuff.”</p>
<p>Pepper scoffed. “Clearly.”</p>
<p>“Is Peter-” Tony asked before getting cut off.</p>
<p>“He’s fine. He’s resting, he woke up a few hours earlier for the first time,” Pepper told him. “May is with him. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p>“They, they put stuff into him. Made him, it was gone. Is he..?” Tony asked, not really making sense.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Pepper frowned.</p>
<p>“Needles. Made him weak. No more, no more Spider-Man. Is he back? Is it gone?” Tony asked frantically, searching for words that wouldn’t come.</p>
<p>“You’re getting yourself worked up.” Pepper put a hand on his chest, stopping him from getting up. “Just rest. I’ll let you know when he’s ready for visitors.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to visit him. I need to know if it wore off,” Tony snapped. He tried to sit up.</p>
<p>“Tony. <em>Rest.</em>” Pepper put a stop to him. Tony found himself nodding and relaxing back into the mattress. “That’s it. You’re still on pain meds. You’re not thinking straight.”</p>
<p>Tony did feel a bit foggy, now that he thought about it. He hated pain meds. He needed to think, he needed to know and process information properly, not through a veil of drugs and needles. He hated when his brain was hazy and gross and sluggish because he couldn’t think on them and he needed his brain. His brain was the <em>only good thing about him.</em></p>
<p>“Calm down, Tony,” Pepper whispered. </p>
<p>Her hand was warm. He was slipping again, the meds making it much easier to sleep. All of his senses were dulled. The pain was much easier to handle in the half-asleep state, and he closed his eyes.</p>
<p>“Rest.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“I want <em>out.</em>”</p>
<p>“Have you <em>seen</em> the state of your hands?”</p>
<p>Tony huffed. He had spent the past hour trying to convince Rhodey that he was fine, ready to leave the meeting bay, but Rhodey kept finding convincing arguments that mostly led back to ‘the doctor says no.’ No matter how many times Tony insisted that his head was fine (it was still pounding) and that his hands didn’t bother him (they did, he couldn't even hold a glass of water without his fingers stinging), Rhodey saw right through the carefully masked discomfort and shut down Tony’s protests.</p>
<p>“Rhododendron,” Tony whined.</p>
<p>“What does that even mean?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“It’s a genus of a species of plants. See? I can remember that. I must be perfectly fine.” Tony crossed his arms defiantly. </p>
<p>He was sitting on the bed, Rhodey being his company for the day. It was either him or Pepper beside him at any given time, and as much as Tony appreciated it, he wanted them gone so he could sneak out and sleep in his own bed for once and get changed into something other than a stupid hospital gown that felt like cardboard. He wanted a proper shower, not a sponge bath from a nurse when he’d wake up from a nightmare covered in sweat.</p>
<p>He was <em>fine.</em></p>
<p>Rhodey and Pepper wouldn’t tell him anything about Peter’s condition; he knew that he was alive, but that was about it. He knew that it wasn’t a good idea for him to see him, which meant things were bad, as he saw the concerned faces whenever he asked if he could just see him. It was getting frustrating. He knew it was for his own good, as he had begun to wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about Peter’s accusations back at the cell, but he just needed to see him. He promised he wouldn’t freak out. </p>
<p>“It just hurts, Rhodey-bear. I’ve been in worse pain. I’m fine. Just let me out,” Tony tried to convince him.</p>
<p>“Just be patient, okay? And don’t tell me that you’ve been worse. I don’t wanna know,” Rhodey sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re too old to be giving me stress migraines.”</p>
<p>Tony smirked. “Nah. You’re just a grandpa.”</p>
<p>The day that Tony was finally deemed well enough to leave, about three days after he was found, he went straight to his bedroom and took a shower. He had caught a glimpse of Peter’s still form in his bed through the room’s window, completely passed out. A mess of wires connected to a monitor were measuring his vitals, and he had a feeding tube going up his nose as well as an IV giving him antibiotics and fluids. Pepper had reluctantly told Tony that a couple of Peter’s wounds had gotten infected after Tony begged for just a tiny bit of information. </p>
<p>He walked quickly to the elevator, his shaking hands shoved in his pockets. The kid looked so small in the bed. </p>
<p>He paused after his shower to look at himself in the mirror. Dark bruises covered his back, presumably from being shoved backwards so many times and falling from the counter after he got caught. His hands never stopped shaking, even though the doctors said that there wouldn’t be lasting damage; they just hurt, and there was anxiety to blame it on. He had a black eye, and a cut that was stitched up on his cheekbone. He hadn’t noticed that before. And since when was his hair greying?</p>
<p>He didn’t want to look at himself anymore. He quickly got dressed and left, unable to stomach his own reflection. He looked much older than he was used to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony only entered Peter’s room while he was sleeping, and left quickly whenever he stirred.</p>
<p>He didn’t know if he could stand seeing Peter conscious, if he opened his eyes and Tony only saw hate and mania that had been present back when he was being cynical in the cell. What if he had meant it? What if Peter opened his eyes and asked Tony to leave, told him that he wanted him out of his life?</p>
<p>No, it was better that Tony didn’t take the chance.</p>
<p>Instead of having a lively conversation with the kid, reassuring him and being reassured all at once, seeing the life in his eyes again, Tony was stuck staring at a still body. Peter was injured, sleeping a ratio of four hours awake and twenty hours asleep. There was no way of knowing if whatever they had injected into him was still affecting him, but the fact that Peter <em>was still in bed even with his super healing</em> was a big hint. It didn’t even show up in the blood tests. Tony had tried to do a little work to see if he could figure out what it was, but his headache would get all aggravated and pound until his vision blacked out at the sides and he couldn’t see what he was doing without feeling like he was going to throw up. Maybe he should’ve waited until the concussion healed.</p>
<p>Since the kid slept so much, his body working hard on healing and all that, Tony did actually spend quite a bit of time with Peter. It was reassuring for him to be in the same room, even if he was unconscious. He looked at peace. Tony didn’t talk to him (it was too easy to pretend to be asleep to listen in on conversations, he had caught Rhodey admitting to many things back when Tony kept getting hospitalized for OD’s), but he spent the long hours sitting in the hard plastic chair in the corner of the room obtaining his Master of Science in Pharmaceutical Sciences instead. If he was going to figure out what substance they used to hurt his kid, then he was going to need some background education first.</p>
<p>It was peaceful, in a way. Nobody bothered him or Peter except for the doctors coming in and out. May worked full-time still, and was gone during the day. Pepper only popped her head in if Tony had spent more than ten hours in the room, same with Rhodey. He could keep an eye on the teenager and study in a calm environment. But as soon as the kid so much as twitched a finger, Tony was out of there.</p>
<p>May caught him once while he was leaving. She touched his arm in a kind but firm gesture, as if she was trying to pin him to the ground. He found it hard to meet her eyes but managed to bring his gaze up anyway.</p>
<p>“He’s been asking for you,” she said softly. “You should stay.”</p>
<p>“I, uh,” Tony began. </p>
<p>He saw Peter’s face. He saw his eyes, full of pain and anger and tears. He was backed into the corner, crying and begging Tony to stay away from him, and he was hurting him, and it was all his fault. </p>
<p>
  <em>I hate you.</em>
</p>
<p>“I have to go.” Tony wrenched himself out of May’s grip.</p>
<p>Bile was rising quick in Tony’s throat, and he made his way briskly down the hallway to the closest washroom. He could feel May’s gaze on him, and actually jumped when he felt something heavy on him; Rhodey had somehow made his way beside him and had opened his mouth to say something, but Tony brushed him off. He needed a toilet, like, five seconds ago.</p>
<p>He didn’t bother locking the stall door behind him as he nearly did a swan dive in front of the toilet bowl. He heaved, coughing, but nothing came up; he hadn’t been able to eat since he was discharged a day and a half ago, but his body didn’t care. The dry heaves made his already bruised chest hurt even more, and he was grateful when someone’s hand was placed on his back for a small bit of comfort, presumably Rhodey’s. </p>
<p>Tony spat into the toilet, his throat burning a hot red. His hands were shaking as he ripped off a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth on, and Rhodey helped him righten himself. </p>
<p>“Hey. Breathe, Tony. Come on,” he said, squeezing his shoulder tight.</p>
<p>“That wasn’t pleasant,” Tony grimaced, catching his breath. He threw the square of toilet paper into the water and flushed it away. He went over to the sink, his legs feeling quite rubbery and like they we’re going to give away any second.</p>
<p>“You okay?” Rhodey asked before realizing it was a stupid question. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Tony turned on the tap and began to wash his hands, careful to not glance up and look at himself in the mirror. The cuts stung and he turned off the water. </p>
<p>“Tony.”</p>
<p>He gripped the edge of the sink tight. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“What for?” Rhodey pressed.</p>
<p>“I hurt… him. Peter.” The name made his heart jolt and another wave of nausea hit him like a tsunami. He swallowed hard and stared at his beat-up fingers, but the stitches made his stomach feel sicker so he looked at the white porcelain of the sink instead which hurt his eyes. There was nothing he could look at.</p>
<p>“You don’t tell us what you did. You don’t tell us anything,” Rhodey accused.</p>
<p>He could look at Rhodey. Rhodey wouldn’t hurt to look at. But looking at Rhodey would mean that he would look back at him and if Tony looked as bad as he felt, then he would be even more worried and press more and Tony would end up freaking out and frankly, Tony had already had enough of feeling today. Maybe for the next few years as well.</p>
<p>“My… fault. When he was, when he, he was saying, and he was hurt, and-" Tony was interrupted by the sudden need to sit down. He fell to the ground and leaned against the wall.</p>
<p>“Woah,” Rhodey said, attempting to catch Tony, but once he saw that he was fine, he just sat down beside him. The joints of the splints that Rhodey wore squeaked, and Tony felt even worse. “Okay. Hey.”</p>
<p>“I’m okay.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Rhodey said skeptically.</p>
<p>“Got dizzy,” Tony mumbled.</p>
<p>“Just breathe.”</p>
<p>“I ran out on May,” Tony found himself saying. “Do you think he told her?”</p>
<p>“Told her what?”</p>
<p>“What I, what I did to him,” Tony said, his pulse racing in his head. He threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled. </p>
<p>Rhodey shrugged, but Tony wasn't satisfied with that answer.</p>
<p>“Peter’s been asking for you,” Rhodey said gently.</p>
<p>“I know.” Tony felt like throwing up again.</p>
<p>“We need you to tell us what happened, okay?”</p>
<p>“Not now.” Tony was going to cry. He could feel it. That wasn’t nausea rising in his throat, that was the lump that came with tears.</p>
<p>“We can’t help you if you don’t tell us,” Rhodey said, then noticed the tears gathering in Tony’s eyes. “Hey.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Tony mumbled, holding his knees right to his chest.</p>
<p>“You can cry, you know.”</p>
<p>Tony shook his head, but blinked too hard and tears fell down his cheeks. He hid his face in his knees and dug his fingernails into his scalp. </p>
<p>“It’s gonna be okay,” Rhodey reassured him, wrapping an arm around his shaking friend. </p>
<p>Tony tried to compose himself before he went over the edge, but it was too late; he tried to stay quiet as his chest heaved with silent sobs, his breath coming out in short hitches that didn’t let him get enough air. His heart <em>hurt.</em> All the what-if’s were suddenly his focus, making everything worse. What if Peter meant those words? What if he really hated him? What if whatever they injected into him had long-lasting side effects? <em>What if he never became Spider-Man again-</em></p>
<p>“I can hear you overthinking,” Rhodey interrupted his spiraling. “Don’t think. Just breathe.”</p>
<p>Tony leaned a little more into Rhodey and tried to focus on the warmth of his body. He wasn’t alone. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder harder, and Tony finally uncurled, releasing his grip on his scalp and letting his legs relax. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and let his body go limp into Rhodey’s side, breathing in his scent. Old Spice. Of course.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Tony whispered after a minute or two.</p>
<p>“Anytime. I love being your snot rag,” Rhodey said.</p>
<p>Tony let out a broken laugh, then lifted his head from Rhodey’s shoulder. “This is why we’re friends.”</p>
<p>“Because I’m your agony aunt? Your shoulder to cry on?” Rhodey teased, standing up. </p>
<p>“You really feel that way?”</p>
<p>“Nah, that’s Pepper’s job.” Rhodey held out his hand. “C’mon.”</p>
<p>Tony grabbed Rhodey’s hand and let him haul him up into a standing position. “I’ll write the report tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“You sure?” Rhodey asked, surprised. </p>
<p>Tony dusted himself off and straightened out his shirt, huffing out a breath. “If you make me question it, I won’t do it.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to have an anxiety attack, either.”</p>
<p>Tony held his breath, not wanting to think about it. He needed to write the report, needed to have the documents and everything done, but he couldn’t even think about starting the task without his hands shaking and his breath catching in his throat. The amount of times over the past day and a half when he sat down at his desk only to leave a few minutes later to calm himself down was too many to count. Rhodey knew that.</p>
<p>It was New York all over again, Siberia all over again. Nightmares. insomnia. Constant reminders of what’s going to come, of possibilities. Little things that made his lungs stop wanting to be lungs, that made his world turn fuzzy at the edges and made everything hurt more than it had already. Intrusive thoughts that went through his head more frequently, thoughts he hyper-fixated on until he could breathe again. Needing to work, to do something with his hands. Fidgeting. His brain buzzing, trying to focus on everything all at once. </p>
<p>“Tony.”</p>
<p>“What?” Tony snapped out of his thoughts. Rhodey’s hand was tight on his elbow and was practically holding him up. He got his feet back and working under him, but Rhodey still didn’t lessen his grip. </p>
<p>“You zoned out a bit.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Do you think you should sit down? It’s okay if you need to,” Rhodey said carefully.</p>
<p>Rhodey was scared. Of course. Tony was scaring him.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Tony said, suddenly irritated. He didn’t even know why.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Rhodey released his grip on Tony’s elbow and surveyed him, taking a step back.</p>
<p>Tony hated when Rhodey gave him that look. It was like he was picking him apart, studying his expression, his posture, all of it. It was a look of I-don’t-quite-believe-you, and Tony was fine, he was perfectly okay and functioning, there was no need for Rhodey to stare at him until it felt like he was burning holes into Tony’s skin.</p>
<p>“What?” Tony asked, making Rhodey’s eyes snap back up to meet his.</p>
<p>“You’ll let me know if something’s eating at you, right?” he asked. “You’re worrying me a bit more than usual.”</p>
<p>Tony was a mess. Rhodey had every reason to be worried, and honestly, he probably should. Something was eating at Tony alright, the guilt, the pain, the nightmares and anxiety; he couldn’t catch a break. He got annoyed too easily now, he couldn’t eat without feeling nauseous, he couldn’t sleep because he just woke up screaming. It was New York all over again, avoiding sleeping, avoiding the bed he shared with Pepper because he didn’t want her worried. The only difference now was that people were actually watching him more carefully now, looking for signs. </p>
<p>“I think I just need to sleep,” Tony sighed.</p>
<p>“Always a good idea.” The relief on his face was almost palpable. “I’ll take you to bed.”</p>
<p>Tony nodded and let Rhodey accompany him to his bedroom on the floor below. Rhodey watched as Tony threw off his shirt and climbed into bed, and after forcing him to drink some water and have a granola bar, Rhodey left him to sleep. Tony appreciated Rhodey’s worrying and his constant mothering, but he just needed to be alone and he knew exactly what to say to gain the time.</p>
<p>Tony wasn’t going to sleep. No, it was still going to be daylight outside for another few hours and his mind wasn’t going to quiet enough for him to actually relax enough. Sure, he was exhausted after waking up from nightmares and from crying, but he just couldn’t; same with what happened after New York. He was getting worse fast.</p>
<p>Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Peter’s face, eyes red and teary, blood dripping down from his hairline. If he could clear his mind enough to be able to get past that, he heard Peter’s <em>I hate you</em> ringing as clear as if it was being said in his ear. And if he actually was able to fall asleep, he was reliving every traumatic experience he had ever been through. It was like Russian Roulette but with nightmares; which one would he get today?</p>
<p>Tony was getting worse. Just when he was getting better. Just when he was kind of getting over Cap and the fall of the Avengers.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes finally, trying to ignore the way his brain was screaming at him to stay awake to avoid waking up screaming and scared and crying. He tried to relax.</p>
<p>
  <em>I hate you.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for commenting and the kudos, I check my inbox too often and I love it when I get those emails &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Sorry this one took a little longer, I got caught up in Christmas baking and everything ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Tony an immense amount of willpower to sit down and write the report.</p>
<p>His hands were shaking the entire time. His mind kept wandering to other things. When he got to the part about the injection, Tony actually had to stop and take a little breather, a little walk around the compound, he was so shaky. He knew Rhodey was around, same with Pepper, but if he didn’t get it done at that moment then he never would. He’d just keep putting it off and they needed it for the records.</p>
<p>Tony tried to leave out as much as he could without it being too much of a problem in order to not freak out. But when he got to the injuries section, it all came rushing back; the fight, the metal slicing through his fingers, Peter’s arms covered in angry welts because of the less-than-sanitary syringes, the smell of vomit and the gnawing hunger, it was just like he was back in the cell. He wrote down what he could before leaning back in his chair and staring straight up at the ceiling, tears leaking out of his eyes.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to finish it. The pen was shaking so much in his hand that his handwriting was almost illegible. But he had to.</p>
<p>He had to write about the bomb exploding in the kid’s face. </p>
<p>He had to write about the words spoken between them.</p>
<p>He had to write about what they did to them both. </p>
<p>He had to write about what <em>he</em> did to Peter.</p>
<p>Tony swallowed hard, wiped his eyes, and got back to work. He could do this. Just a few more things to fill out and then it would be over, and he wouldn’t have to do it ever again. At least he hoped he wouldn’t; people seemed to enjoy kidnapping Tony and Tony kept putting the kid in danger. His mind blue-screened for a second and the pen slipped from his grip, but he blinked hard and tried again. </p>
<p>As soon as he was done, the papers shoved out of sight until he called someone to come pick it up, Tony went straight to Pepper. She held him in her arms, and he breathed in her scent, a sort of clean smell that reminded him of flowers. Nothing about Pepper made him want to freak out. Nothing about Pepper reminded him of the time in the cave, the battle of New York, his mistake with Ultron, Steve Rogers leaving him, and getting captured with Peter. Everything about her screamed warmth and comfort, and Tony was so, so glad that they’d manage to repair their relationship. He couldn’t live without her.</p>
<p>“You okay?” she whispered into his ear, massaging the base of his neck.</p>
<p>They were just standing in the middle of the hallway outside a couple meeting rooms. Tony had immediately asked FRIDAY where Pepper was and made his way straight to her. Nobody was around. If Tony and Pepper had been together while the Avengers were at the compound, they wouldn’t have gotten any privacy; but now, it was just so empty. Tony didn’t like to think about that.</p>
<p>“I finished the report,” Tony mumbled into her collarbone. </p>
<p>Pepper hummed in response. She didn’t let go of him. Tony was pathetically grateful.</p>
<p>“You wanna take a nap with me?” Pepper asked, because Pepper <em>knew</em>. She knew about the sleepless nights, she knew about the crushing weight of guilt and depression settling on Tony’s shoulders. She knew how tired he was, both physically and mentally.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Tony answered, finally leaning back from the embrace. </p>
<p>Pepper slid her hand into his as they walked down the hallway together, back to their shared bedroom. Tony tried to concentrate on her hand in his, their fingers laced together, the shared feeling of intimacy instead of focusing on how empty the hallways were. He missed the others. He was too proud to say it, but Pepper seemed to sense his mood dwindling even more and squeezed his hand tight. It made his hand hurt a bit, but not enough for him to pull away. He wouldn’t pull away for the world right now.</p>
<p>“You’re okay,” she whispered, leaning against his shoulder.</p>
<p>Tony nodded. Once they were both in bed, Tony, with his shoes kicked off but his shirt still on (hiding bruises), kissed Pepper’s forehead. She was his everything. It was like the world went quiet, and for a moment, he forgot about Peter lying in the medical centre. He forgot to feel guilty about everything, and he forgot how alone he was compared to just a few months prior. Pepper was his relaxant, and he was addicted.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.</p>
<p>“I love you too.” She smiled up at him. “Please try to get some sleep.”</p>
<p>Tony nodded, rolled over, and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He waited for the flashbacks, he waited for Peter’s voice full of hatred, he waited for the looming nightmares.</p>
<p>But none came, and soon enough, Tony was sleeping soundly for the first time in days.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p>“Hi!” </p>
<p>Awkward silence. </p>
<p>Tony cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “I, uh, finished the report.” He lifted the papers up to show Peter.</p>
<p>Why did he bring a copy of the report. Why did he think that would be a good idea. Peter was literally still in a hospital bed, even with his super-healing capabilities (<em>thank God the damned injection wore off</em>), what was Tony thinking? He swallowed, placing the papers on the table beside the bed. </p>
<p>Peter winced and made no move to pick them up. “Yikes.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Tony looked at his hands clasped in his lap.</p>
<p>This wasn’t working. There wasn’t any hate present, Peter sure as hell wasn’t telling Tony to get the hell out of his life (he probably should, Tony had caused him enough trouble for seven lifetimes), and it was more than Tony could’ve ever asked for. Except for the whole ‘awkwardness thing’ that seemed to happen whenever someone survived something traumatic; the first time Tony and Steve had seen each other after being trapped under a building together, it was the same weird silence. No one knew what to say.</p>
<p>Not that this was traumatic. Tony was <em>not</em> traumatized.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Peter asked finally.</p>
<p>It was obvious that the question had been sitting with him for a while. Peter looked nervous, with the air of a kicked puppy. Tony sighed and inspected his hands as if he were seeing them for the first time. He still looked like Frankenstein’s monster, all stitched together and puffy. He felt like Frankenstein’s monster to be honest. And if he felt like him, then Peter must feel like one of the monkey’s involved in Dr Roger Sperry’s split-brain experiments.</p>
<p>So about a thousand times worse. </p>
<p>“Did I say something?” Peter asked quietly when Tony didn’t answer.</p>
<p>Tony wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or throw up. He settled for shaking his head and smiling a grin that felt too fake and stretched his chapped lips until it was painful.</p>
<p>“Are we, are we good?” Tony asked, suddenly sobered up, the grin dropped completely.</p>
<p>“You literally saved me, Mr Stark. Yeah, of course we’re good,” Peter asked, confused.</p>
<p>“Even after I, uh…”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember much,” Peter admitted, shrugging. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Tony cursed, hanging his head. He didn’t want to tell the kid what happened. </p>
<p>He <em>could </em>never tell Peter. He could let Peter carry on with zero memory of what happened, let him keep thinking that Tony was a hero, and live life happily together. Or he could tell Peter what he had done, how he had let him get hurt, how useless Tony had been throughout the whole ordeal because <em>Peter deserved to know</em>. Tony deserved to have Peter hate him. There needed to be some accountability after putting a child in mortal danger.</p>
<p>“What did I say?” Peter was getting steadily more panicked. </p>
<p>“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony answered automatically. </p>
<p>“That’s not what I asked.”</p>
<p><em>When had the kid become so bold?</em> “You, uh, said lots of things.”</p>
<p>“Like what?” he pressed, eyes wide.</p>
<p>“In your defense, they were torturing you, and I didn’t exactly put a stop to it,” Tony admitted, his breath catching in his throat. His words tasted sour and he felt his lungs wanting to fuck things up for him again. </p>
<p>“Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>“Just, you know. You were angry. You needed an outlet, I get it,” Tony found himself saying, unable to give a clear answer, <em>unable to get a full breath in-</em></p>
<p>“What did I say?” Peter asked again, his voice going high and panicky.</p>
<p>“Can I just- here.” Tony tapped the papers on the side table again. His voice was tight and clearly forced. “Read it.”</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?” Peter asked, as Tony turned around, heading for the door. </p>
<p>“I’m… sorry,” Tony managed to get out before making a (calm and composed) run for it. </p>
<p>His hands were shaking as he walked quickly down the hallway, so he shoved them in his pockets. He couldn’t breathe, and his vision was going all tunnelly and he couldn’t think and his brain was screaming at him and he was sweating and hot and cold all at once and he couldn’t feel his legs as they carried him away, far away from Peter’s room, and Pepper, he needed Pepper, her touch, her voice, her warmth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Pepperpepperpepperpepper where are you?</em>
</p>
<p>Tony made it all the way to the elevator before he collapsed in one of the corners. He hated how it was all mirrors for walls, showing himself how weak he looked, curled up in a ball with his still injured fingers tugging his hair, tears streaming down his face and getting into the cut on his cheek, making it sting, since when had he started crying, he didn’t usually cry during attacks, this was a whole new level of pathetic.</p>
<p>He heard the bell ding as a signal of the elevator reaching a floor, and in his right mind, Tony would’ve stood up and brushed himself off with a barely-there mask of professionalism, but he couldn’t even lift his head. Standing up seemed like so much more work than it used to be. <em>Everything</em> seemed like so much more work than it used to be. And besides, there was a more pressing matter at hand, his lungs were crap at being lungs and his chest was so sososo tight and closing in on him-</p>
<p>Gentle hands massaged Tony’s tight shoulders and Tony risked looking up for a second. Pepper was squatting in front of him, smiling sadly down at his pitiful form. Her eyes were kind and warm and Tony wanted to climb inside of them but he just squeezed his own eyes shut because <em>he couldn’t breathe-</em></p>
<p>“FRIDAY told me where to find you. She stopped the elevator,” Pepper explained, her voice soothing. “So just take your time.”</p>
<p>Tony nodded, counting his breaths with Pepper’s encouragement until he was able to shakily stand up again. She was a blessing and a half. He didn’t deserve her one bit. He didn’t deserve anything nice.</p>
<p>Not after he hurt Peter like that.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“I think I want you to go back on your medication,” Pepper said softly, running her fingers through his hair as they laid in bed later that night together, Tony held close to her chest.</p>
<p>He didn’t say anything. </p>
<p>He didn’t like the pills. They’d been prescribed after the whole Mandarin incident, and Tony had been taking them off and on ever since. He had stopped after the fallout with the Avengers, mostly out of timing; there were simply too many things to do and he didn’t want to just get up and leave a meeting because it was time to take his medicine. He didn’t want to be the old man who had to take his pills or else he’d go bat crazy. So he stopped. Besides, the kid seemed to be an endless supply of serotonin. Just not lately.</p>
<p>But if it meant that he would stop freaking out whenever he saw the kid, if it meant that he didn’t run away, if it meant less panic attacks and less thoughts of throwing himself in front of a train, then he’d take it. For Pepper, though. At least that’s what he told himself.</p>
<p>“What do you say?” she asked. </p>
<p>“Okay,” he mumbled.</p>
<p>“Good,” Pepper said, and that was all the reassurance Tony needed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we got some happiness here, but there's still three chapters to go...<br/>;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter had read the report. May had too, even though Tony had texted beforehand and told her that it was… gory. If it were Tony’s kid, he wouldn’t have wanted to know about all the details, but May was built differently. She caught up to him in the hallway to the med bay kitchen afterward, and Tony, fully expecting a slap to the face and a restraining order, was pleasantly surprised when she kissed his cheek and thanked him for returning her nephew safely.</p>
<p>But that didn’t sit well with Tony, that didn’t fit into the chain of events. “Even after I…” <em>put technology before your last living family member?</em></p>
<p>He didn’t dare finish the sentence out loud. If he put it that way, if he so blatantly stated it to her face, he knew what she’d say. He left her to figure out what he meant by the beginning of the question, giving himself the benefit of the doubt. </p>
<p>May pursed her lips, thinking of the best way to respond. “You were given two choices, and both of them were… less than ideal. But you saved the world, <em>and</em> Petey. You have a tendency to do the impossible, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>Tony smiled softly. May didn’t know how much he needed to hear that. “Thank you. I try.”</p>
<p>“Now take care of yourself. Pepper and I have been talking,” she said threateningly. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself for this.”</p>
<p>Tony scoffed. “That’s not going to stop me. As you said, I have a tendency to do the impossible.”</p>
<p>He had said too much. May was frowning at him, looking at him with worried eyes that almost perfectly matched Pepper’s. “I know how crippling guilt is. I saw it in myself, and I saw it in Peter.”</p>
<p>“Peter?”</p>
<p>“Uncle Ben. I’m sure he’s mentioned him. But Spider-Man was asked to catch a mugger, and he didn’t, because this was before he was all ‘crime-fighting’ and everything. That mugger went on to, well, to murder his uncle. My husband.” May wasn’t hiding. She was looking at him right in the eye, not even glancing down for a second. “He missed school for weeks.”</p>
<p>“He beat himself up, for that?” Tony asked, his heart aching. He had known about his uncle’s passing, and how he had died, but Peter had never told him that he <em>himself</em> was involved.</p>
<p>“He still does.” May nodded. “With great power comes great responsibility. That’s what Ben used to tell him, and Peter took that to heart after he was gone.”</p>
<p>Tony stared pensively at the spot to the right of her neck. She put a hand on his left shoulder, forcing him to stare at her. </p>
<p>“Don’t fall down that hole, okay? Do what Petey did, he took the lesson and became stronger. He still needs you. Don’t be a stranger because of this.”</p>
<p>May was psychic. There was no other possibility. Tony had been debating leaving Peter alone once he left the compound, <em>because he never seemed to stop dragging him into his messes</em>. But looking at May, and knowing that she never said things she didn’t mean, he had to agree. If May wanted someone out of her or her nephew’s life, then it would be done; she was just scary like that.</p>
<p>“I won’t. How could I resist those puppy eyes?” Tony said, humour in his tone. The conversation had gotten too serious, and Tony needed out of it.</p>
<p>“I know what you mean.” May laughed. “Children are quite persuasive.”</p>
<p>She left on a good note, and Tony could rest assured that she was not mad at him. But he still hadn’t talked to Peter since running off on him after handing him the report, and he wasn’t looking forward to the next visit. Now that he knew exactly what Tony had done to him, that he had chosen to <em>sacrifice</em> Peter to keep the technology a secret, maybe he’d be a bit hesitant to continue to see each other.</p>
<p>Maybe Tony deserved it. Maybe he deserved to feel sick with guilt every waking hour of the day. He felt guilty for getting the kid in trouble and he felt guilty for being guilty and worrying everyone else. Pepper and Rhodey kept hovering and he was barely able to go use the washroom without having one of them standing over his shoulder, and Tony wished that they didn’t feel the need to take care of him like he was going to off himself at the first chance he got.</p>
<p>Tony finally visited Peter in the med bay a few hours before he was discharged, and they were both silent for a good five minutes before Peter finally spoke up. “I didn’t mean those words. What I said. Back when we were kidnapped.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t think so.” Tony pretended that a ten-ton weight hadn’t been lifted off his shoulders just from hearing Peter say that.</p>
<p>He stared out the window at the forest behind the compound. It was sunny and warm, not a cloud in the sky. A perfect day. But Tony hadn’t even <em>left</em> the compound since he got back, too afraid to go outside, too afraid to be taken again. He wondered if Peter was anxious to leave, or if he wanted to be stuck inside forever, where he was safe. God knew Tony wanted to wrap the kid in bubble wrap. </p>
<p>“I… whatever they did to me, it made me say it. But I didn’t mean it,” Peter said, his tone becoming desperate, and Tony snapped his attention back to the kid. “I <em>told</em> you earlier, I said that I’d be willing to die for-”</p>
<p>“Don’t. Don’t say that,” Tony interrupted, his tone sharp but not angry. </p>
<p>Peter shut up.</p>
<p>“I thought you were gonna die,” Tony admitted quietly, wringing his hands, leaning forward in his chair. “You were, you wouldn’t drink anything, you couldn’t keep anything down, I didn’t know if they were feeding you, I didn’t know what they were <em>doing</em> to you while you were gone…”</p>
<p>“I’m alive, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>“I thought they’d throw a dead body in the cell soon enough.” Tony’s mouth tasted sour and he swallowed hard. </p>
<p>“Mr Stark. I’m okay, yeah? I’m leaving this afternoon. And Aunt May doesn’t blame you,” Peter tried to comfort Tony. “You were worried about that at the beginning. If anything, she’s mad at <em>me</em>.”</p>
<p>“Why would she be mad at you?” Tony asked.</p>
<p>“Because she has to be. When something goes wrong, somebody has to be mad at someone. For example, you’re mad at yourself,” Peter explained. “It’s like, one of the stages of grief. It’s mandatory.”</p>
<p>“I’m not here for a therapy session,” Tony joked, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of this teenager picking him apart and analyzing him.</p>
<p>“Still. Someone needed to tell you.” Peter pulled at a loose thread on the blanket.</p>
<p>“Do...you blame me? Are you mad at me?” Tony asked, lifting his head, noticing that Peter hadn’t mentioned the recipient of his own anger.</p>
<p>But he looked at him like he was crazy. “What? No way! I literally begged you to go on that mission, Mr Stark. If anything, it’s my fault.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that either.” Tony put up his hand but brought it down when Peter looked at it a few seconds too long. “You were great. Kicked ass while you still could. It was <em>not</em> your fault.”</p>
<p>“And it wasn’t yours either. It was the dude’s fault for taking us,” Peter said defiantly, his mind made. “The bad guys should get the blame. That’s who I’m mad at.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Tony smiled a bit. The kid was more rational than he was. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“But like, how are you? Your hands are kinda…” Peter grimaced while still looking at Tony’s beat up hands. Tony stopped wringing them and hid them in his lap.</p>
<p>“They’re fine,” he said in a tone that signaled the end of the discussion. “How… are you?”</p>
<p>“I’m great. Ned dropped off my homework the other day.” Peter pointed to a binder filled with papers and a textbook balanced on top. “The teachers think I’m out with appendicitis.”</p>
<p>“But we used that excuse last time?” Tony asked, confused, remembering a bad patrol night that resulted in an infected stab wound. </p>
<p>“So?”</p>
<p>“You only have one appendix.” Tony raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“...oops.” Peter grinned sheepishly. He shrugged. “Well, nobody said anything.”</p>
<p>Tony huffed in pretend annoyance. “You gotta get your act together.”</p>
<p>“That’s rich coming from you. Aunt May told me that Miss Potts told her that you aren’t sleeping,” Peter accused.</p>
<p>“Nope! Overstepping boundaries here! Gotta go!” Tony said, lifting himself out of the chair. He smiled, though, letting Peter know that it was okay. All light-hearted.</p>
<p>“No, no, stay.” Peter reached out an arm while draping his other arm dramatically over his eyes. “It’s so boring here.”</p>
<p>“I actually gotta go, sorry Pete.” Tony reached out and grabbed his hand, even though it made the roughness of the stitches more pronounced. “Catch up on work. We’ve been gone too long. You know how it is.”</p>
<p>“Fineeee,” Peter drew out, letting go of Tony’s hand and peeking his eyes out from under his arm. “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I’m leaving in a few hours.”</p>
<p>“For sure.” Tony nodded and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.</p>
<p>After seeing Peter okay, after getting that giant weight off of his shoulders, he was struck with the need to work. To figure it out. Because nobody should be able to get rid of Peter’s powers ever again, nobody should be able to hurt him in the way that the group of scientists had, and Tony would do everything in his power to make sure of that. Never again. His head was significantly better, just a pounding headache whenever he got too upset, and he was ready to focus. Ready to make sure nobody hurt Peter ever again. His mind was already buzzing with Spider-Man suit upgrades, possible formulas, his hands were itching to improve…</p>
<p>“It’s good to have you back, Pete,” Tony said with a bow of his head, and he was gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One of the longer chapters :D<br/>You know I'm a sucker for angst, so I had to include just two more chapters even though things have mostly wrapped up ;))))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony was almost finished. His stomach was growling, his eyes were bleary, his throat was dry and he hadn’t said a single word in three days and hadn’t slept in even longer but he was nearly finished, he just had to run simulations, to make sure…</p>
<p>As soon as Peter had left, he had buckled down and gotten to work. His head still wasn’t healed and the scabs in his hands still pulled every time he moved his fingers, but there was still the pressing matter of figuring out the compound that Peter had gotten injected into his bloodstream. If he figured it out, then he could find an antidote, and who knew? If Bruce came back and had gotten stuck as the hulk, or if he was refusing to calm down on a mission, it would be incredibly useful. No need for Veronica or the Hulkbuster anymore.</p>
<p>No. Tony shook his head. Don’t think about Bruce. Don’t think about missions. That was in the past, the Avengers were no longer a thing, and dwelling on it would only make Tony sad. He blocked out those thoughts and focused on the work instead, although it was becoming increasingly harder with the way his head pounded with headache and the way his hands shook. They always shook. He didn’t know if it was due to anxiety, his injury, or the amount of caffeine coursing through his veins, but he didn’t feel like taking out variables to figure it out. It wasn’t a pressing matter, anyway. </p>
<p>“Mr Stark?”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ!” Tony jumped, pulling back. He hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to the computer monitor. Peter was standing in the doorway of the workshop, even though Tony thought he had put it in lockdown. He cursed himself for muting JARVIS after the third day, as he would’ve warned him that Peter was about to <em>literally break in.</em> “Kid? What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“Miss Potts asked me to, uh, ‘snap you out if it’.” He did air quotation marks with his fingers. “Her words, not mine.”</p>
<p>Tony ran a hand over his face, ignoring the pain when the skin pulled. The stitches had only come out a few hours prior. It had been the first break he had taken from his work in a few days, and then he got right back to the grind. <em>And he was still so close</em>, he could feel a breakthrough coming soon. He could ignore the kid and work, as long as he didn’t talk as much.</p>
<p>“What are you doing, anyway?” Peter asked, throwing his bag down on the ground beside the sinks, and sitting in the chair in front of Tony’s desk. So much for Peter being quiet.</p>
<p>“Uh…” Tony debated telling him, then shrugged. “Well, I’m trying to figure out what they injected into you.”</p>
<p>Peter’s entire demeanor froze, but Tony didn’t notice. “Why?”</p>
<p>“To find an antidote, obviously. And pure curiosity. I guess,” Tony added, keeping his attention on the screens. </p>
<p>“But you’re not even a chemist, or a biologist?” Peter asked, his tone of voice upset. Tony still didn’t notice that, too wrapped up.</p>
<p>Tony should’ve just shut up, he knew that. But he never passed up an opportunity to show off a new skill. “Actually, while you were passed out, I took my Master of Science in Pharmaceutical Sciences. Took a few days.”</p>
<p>“I don’t even know what that is,” Peter said.</p>
<p>“Didn’t expect you to. But! Background knowledge. I’m an expert now. Basically a pharmacist. Just without a license. Or a job,” Tony spoke in quick sentences, anxious to get back to his work. </p>
<p>“I don’t think you should figure it out,” Peter admitted quietly. </p>
<p>“What? Why not?” Tony asked, looking briefly at him before returning some of his focus back to the screen.</p>
<p>“Because it’s, not like, morally correct?” Peter tried to explain. “Like they died, right? Just let it die with them.”</p>
<p>Tony swallowed, not wanting to think about it. “I’m doing this with morally correct intentions.” He ran the simulation. A hologram of a body listed diagnosis and side effects on different parts of it. </p>
<p>“But they were paid by the government, so their intentions were technically morally correct as well,” Peter argued. He noticed the hologram and frowned. “Is that me?”</p>
<p>“It has your DNA, yeah. But it’s just a simulation,” Tony explained, trying to match the side effects listed with the side effects that Peter had actually experienced. He cursed. It wasn’t a perfect match, but he was closer than he had been with the trial before. Just a few more runs-</p>
<p>“Turn it off.”</p>
<p>Tony snapped his head up. “What?”</p>
<p>“It’s basically the same thing! You’re experimenting on somebody, it’s sick, it doesn’t need to be figured out anyway!” Peter shouted, his tone desperate. </p>
<p>But Tony was too far into the science to make sense of Peter’s words. “It’s not! It’s not a real body, it’s totally harmless, it’s just an enhanced-”</p>
<p>“It’s not right!”</p>
<p>“Did you just interrupt me?”</p>
<p>“These things are better off forgotten, because what if somebody gets a hold of-”</p>
<p>“They’re not going to,” Tony said defiantly. </p>
<p>“But they might! I don’t want to go through that again! And since you’re smart, you’re gonna make it even more effective, and I don’t want the government to find other enhanced individuals and use it against-”</p>
<p>“I don’t work for the government.”</p>
<p>“That’s not the point! Just don’t! You’re no better than them!”</p>
<p>Tony paused, Peter’s words echoing in his ears. <em>You’re no better than them</em>. But wasn’t he?</p>
<p>The scientists had been paid to make something to stop Captain America. To turn him back into the sickly boy from Brooklyn. For the greater good, because he was a war criminal, going against international rules and not taking accountability. In fact, that group of late scientists and Tony had the same opinions. Cap needed to be stopped. So, they had done something about it, and government funding was always a plus.</p>
<p>Tony now, instead of letting the formula die with them, was desperate to find out what it was. He told himself it would be to protect from further harm. But being cursed with knowledge, he knew that he wouldn’t just be able to leave the compound as is. He’d want to improve it. Like his father before him, Tony too had terrible ideas that his genius made up for him. Weapons too great and powerful that they had to be locked away forever. But Tony, who usually fought the urge to build these terrible things of war, he hadn’t thought that this weapon(? Could it be called a weapon?) might be too big as well. In the hands of the wrong people..?</p>
<p>Could he trust his own hands?</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?” Peter asked timidly.</p>
<p>Tony shuddered. He felt detached and floaty. His hands hurt. His head hurt. He was suddenly aware of how much <em>stuff</em> he had around him, so many coffee mugs field with cold brown sludge, papers, tablets open to different sheets and tabs and there was a muted video playing from one of them that he hadn’t noticed before, too many monitor screens were on, bright lights boring into his eyeballs. Pens were scattered across various surfaces, he had turned nearly paper-free a few years ago, why the <em>hell did he have pens still?</em> When did this all get here? When did he get like this? <em>It was New York all over again. </em>Work binges where he lost all sense of reality.</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?”</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re no better than them!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hate you.</em>
</p>
<p>“Get me out of here,” Tony mumbled, standing up quickly, a supporting hand on the desk. His world went black at the edges and he waited, blinking quickly. Working through a concussion and running on two hours of sleep in three days probably did nothing to help the hypotension. Peter was by his side in a second, but Tony just jumped when he felt the hand on his elbow. He walked away quickly, refusing to make eye contact with the kid.</p>
<p>“Mr Stark, are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Don’t follow me!” Tony called back, making his way to the washroom. He kicked aside random machinery that he had blocking the door and quickly locked himself in the room, breathing heavily. He leaned against the sink, removing several glass beakers from the basin (what were those doing there) and turning on the water to block out any sounds.</p>
<p>He always got like this. He’d work and let everything get cluttered and messy, then snap back to reality and get so overwhelmed. He hadn’t had a work binge this bad since after Cap had left him in Siberia. He had worked on Rhodey’s legs until he collapsed that time, until FRIDAY had called an ambulance, and he had to wake up to Pepper’s disappointed and worried face and was guilted into resting. </p>
<p>But he thought he was better than that now. He was taking medicine. They had helped before, with the binges after New York, with the guilt from Ultron, with the thoughts that sprung up…</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and cursed. He saw the untouched pill bottle in his mind, neglected for the past few days. Of course.</p>
<p>His hand slipped on the sink and he knocked one of the beakers to the floor, glass flying everywhere. “Fuck.”</p>
<p>“Mr Stark?”</p>
<p>“All’s fine!” he called back. <em>Jesus</em>. He kicked a bit of the glass in the space between the toilet and the sink and turned off the water. </p>
<p>“Uh, I didn’t know what to do, and FRIDAY asked if I wanted to call Mr Rhodes,” came Peter’s sheepish voice, muffled through the door.</p>
<p>“Fuck me,” Tony groaned, hitting his head against the wall. Rhodey would just worry. “I’m fine, okay? Just got a bit overwhelmed.”</p>
<p>“If you’re fine, you’d open the door,” Peter challenged.</p>
<p>“I’m a grown adult,” Tony muttered.</p>
<p>“It’s not like grown ups can’t have bad days,” Peter stated. Tony cursed and hit his head against the wall again. “And stop hurting yourself.”</p>
<p>Tony turned on the tap again to splash some water on his face, the cold water refreshing but doing nothing to tone down panic. He took a deep breath while drying his face, trying to mentally prepare himself to leave the washroom. He didn’t have to look at the workspace, didn’t have to look at his work, at his attempt at <em>literally betraying Peter Parker.</em> He can't do anything right these days.</p>
<p>Bad thought. He removed the towel from his face and wrenched open the door, heading straight for the exit. Peter followed like an obedient puppy, always two metres behind him. Tony didn’t stop until he was in the elevator and finally turned around once the doors were closed, and he no longer could see the workshop in the corner of his eye. He could feel Peter’s eyes boring into his skin, staring at him as if he expected something.</p>
<p>“What?” he huffed, pressing the button for the third floor. </p>
<p>“You seem on edge,” Peter noticed.</p>
<p>Tony could’ve laughed at how blatantly obvious it was. “Just needed to get out there.”</p>
<p>Peter smiled reassuringly up at him, and Tony’s heart twinged.</p>
<p>Peter trusted Tony with his world, and Tony was about to do something that was potentially gonna harm him. He had <em>already</em> hurt the kid. Sure, Peter was healed and scheduled to start patrolling the next day, and forgave him for getting him into danger, but Tony had no doubt that he still was afraid. Even if he didn’t remember much, just the idea of it had to scare him. Tony once got nightmares from a story about a deployment that Rhodey had told him, and he wasn’t even there. </p>
<p>Tony leaned back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, kid. I’m sorry about that.”</p>
<p>“Is that your favourite word?” Peter asked, obviously trying to inject humour into the situation.</p>
<p>“What? Fuck or sorry?” Tony raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching up.</p>
<p>“Either or.” Peter shrugged. “But still, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. I get it. I just don’t want you to do it.”</p>
<p>“You’re...wise.” Tony dragged his hand across his face. He still felt jittery and like his skin was too tight for his body. He needed to move. </p>
<p>“You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Tony answered immediately. </p>
<p>Peter looked Tony in the eye. “I can hear your heartbeat, you know.”</p>
<p>“That’s…” <em>Terrifying. Incredible. Invasive. What the fuck.</em></p>
<p>The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out quickly, followed closely by Peter. The hallway blurred as he walked faster to the living room beyond the corridor, taking long strides, almost running. Peter walked beside him effortlessly, staring up at Tony with big, worried eyes. It irked him for some reason that he didn’t know. He didn’t want pity.</p>
<p>Tony flopped down on the couch once he reached it, his arm over his eyes. Peter sat tentatively by his feet, picking up the remote on the coffee table in front of them and turning to a channel on the tv. Cutthroat kitchen was playing, and Tony moved his arm a little to watch the screen. Peter relaxed into the couch, and Tony caught him glancing over at him a couple of times during the show. He always quickly looked away, though, and neither of them said anything about it.</p>
<p>Tony relaxed as well. The need to get up and move incessantly disappeared, and he wasn’t feeling all jumpy anymore. Peter seemed to tell as well, because the little glances became less and less frequent as the show went on. </p>
<p>Rhodey soon walked into the room, sighing when he caught sight of the pair. He went over to the couch and nudged Tony’s head with his knee. “Get up, you big lump.”</p>
<p>“It’s my couch,” Tony grumbled, but sat up all the same. </p>
<p>Rhodey sat beside him, and Tony leaned into his shoulder. He was in a RhodeyPeter sandwich, and surrounded by two of his most favourite people, he felt safe. Safe enough to let the work binge take its toll on him, safe enough to let himself feel the exhaustion that washed over his body like waves. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, his head wedged between the couch cushions and Rhodey’s shoulder to keep himself from falling. </p>
<p>“Is he asleep?” Rhodey asked Peter, a few minutes later.</p>
<p>Tony didn’t bother to open his eyes. He didn’t know if he could. He was stuck in the stage between consciousness and sleep, unable to move, everything sounding like he was underwater in a comfy way. He was warm and he wasn’t worrying about nightmares for the first time since forever.</p>
<p>Peter hummed. “Looks like it.”</p>
<p>“We should draw on his face or something,” Rhodey said.</p>
<p>Peter laughed quietly. “Give him a full beard instead of the goatee.”</p>
<p>“A bright purple one.”</p>
<p>Silence. Tony almost drifted off completely, but Peter shifted on the couch and he was back. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry you saw him like that,” Rhodey said, and Tony wished he could fall asleep<em> right now</em> so that he didn’t have to hear this conversation.</p>
<p>“I don’t mind,” Peter answered. </p>
<p>“He loves you, y’know. He does listen to your voicemails.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Tattletale. </em>
</p>
<p>“He does?” Peter said. “I thought that was just Happy.”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell him I said that. He doesn’t like to admit that he actually has a heart.”</p>
<p>Peter hummed. “He has a big heart.”</p>
<p>“That he does.”</p>
<p>“I… it makes me sad that he’s…” Peter trailed off.</p>
<p>“He’s getting help. And you’re good for him too,” Rhodey said, interpreting what Peter was going to say. </p>
<p>“But if I hadn’t begged him to take me then-”</p>
<p>“No buts,” Rhodey interrupted. “That was nobody’s fault.”</p>
<p>“I still feel that way.”</p>
<p>“I know. So does Tony.”</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“I know. But he does.”</p>
<p>There was a silence filled by the sounds of cooking from the TV. Tony buried his face deeper into his friend’s shoulder, and Rhodey gently put his hand on Tony’s neck to hold his head where it was so it wouldn’t fall. </p>
<p>“I have to get back. I didn’t tell Aunt May where I was.” Peter said after a good ten minutes.</p>
<p>“You’ll see yourself out? I can’t move with this sack of potatoes on me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” The couch shifted as Peter’s weight left, leaving empty air. “If you need anything…”</p>
<p>“I’ll let you know. Thanks, Pete. You’re a big help.” Tony could hear Rhodey’s smile.</p>
<p>The silence stretched on, just Rhodey and Tony and the TV, and soon enough, Tony was gone.</p>
<p>His dreams were non-existent, and he couldn’t be more thankful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last chapter :(<br/>This fic is 61 Google Doc pages long, typed in size eleven arial font and wow I'm feeling it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“My neck hurts like a bitch.”</p>
<p>“That’s what you get for falling asleep on me, old man.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you too,” Tony groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. It ached. Every part of his body ached. </p>
<p>But considering everything, the day before, he had slept soundly. Ten hours, he and Rhodey were sitting there, the TV going from Cutthroat Kitchen to Cake Wars to Beat Bobby Flay to every cooking program available. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Rhodey was suddenly an expert in the kitchen. </p>
<p>“You could’ve woken me up.” </p>
<p>“And ruin your beauty sleep? God knows you need it,” Rhodey scoffed. Tony glanced at the pitch blackness outside, and caught a glimpse of the clock. Three AM. “C’mon; let’s get some food into you before you get back to your work.”</p>
<p>“I’m not- I don’t want to. To work. Not now.” Tony froze.</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re no better than them!</em>
</p>
<p>“Tony? You look like a deer in headlights.” Rhodey gripped his shoulder to bring him back.</p>
<p>“I, uh, I was working, but it was bad. I fucked up. Upset the kid because I was trying to, I was, I was trying to find what they had injected into him, and I should’ve known.” Tony pressed his fists into his eyes. “I fucked up.”</p>
<p>Thinking about it now, he just realized how wrong it was. Peter was right; this was going to have to be the one project that he abandon. Of course he was upset. He had been the one poked and prodded at, while Tony just treated it like another fucking science experiment. </p>
<p>“Is that what caused…” Rhodey waved his hand to gesture to Tony’s form. “All this?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He rubbed his face, his hand staying to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “He’s seen me in every worse possible emotion.”</p>
<p>“He loves you.”</p>
<p>Tony made a noise of disbelief and Rhodey rolled his eyes. </p>
<p>“You’re an idiot,” he sighed. “The kid adores you. He looks up to you.”</p>
<p>“I’m a mess.”</p>
<p>“Sure, but that doesn’t change anything. What matters is that you get back up, yeah? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Rhodey clasped a hand on Tony’s shoulder. </p>
<p>“I don’t feel stronger.”</p>
<p>“That’s because you’re a self-deprecating asshole,” Rhodey grinned. “You don’t have to work. But you do have to eat. C’mon.”</p>
<p>“I think there’s a frozen lasagna somewhere,” Tony offered. He was suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He hauled himself off the couch and they both made their way over to the little kitchenette in the same room (they had like fifty kitchens in the compound, and Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had used one himself). He sat at the breakfast bar on a stool while Rhodey searched the fridge and pulled out cheese and butter, then raided the cupboards for bread.</p>
<p>Tony watched as Rhodey grabbed a pan and greased it up, placing it on the stove. He placed the buttered bread down on the pan and put the cheese on top, followed by the other slice of bread. A grilled cheese sandwich. Just like when they were together at MIT in one of the student housings, and decidedly tired of the meal plan food, they ate a grilled cheese sandwich each every day for a month. </p>
<p>“Didn’t I say something about a lasagna?” Tony scoffed. “Not that I’m not grateful.”</p>
<p>Rhodey flipped a sandwich over, humming. “Too much effort. Didn’t want to wait forty-five minutes for it to cook.”</p>
<p>Tony shrugged in agreement. Five minutes later, Rhodey and Tony were both seated beside each other, holding a sandwich each. Tony took a bite of his, grinning. “I feel like I’m sixteen again.”</p>
<p>“God.” Rhodey looked at his sandwich like he was seeing it for the first time. “I had forgotten about our sad streak.”</p>
<p>“It was the only thing we could cook,” Tony remembered. “It’s still the only thing I can make without fucking it up.”</p>
<p>“Does this even count as cooking?” Rhodey asked. “Butter, bread, and cheese.”</p>
<p>Tony nodded. “That’s like, two whole food groups.”</p>
<p>An awkward silence followed, and although Tony really wanted to say something, he didn’t know what. The two were very clearly ignoring the elephant in the room, preferring to eat instead. But soon Tony finished his sandwich and Rhodey was done with his own, and they both just stared at each other’s empty plates, waiting to see who would speak first.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Tony said first. He hated silence.</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Rhodey said, obviously not believing him. “Anything else you want to admit to?”</p>
<p>Tony groaned, putting his elbows on the breakfast bar and holding his head up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”</p>
<p>“Just do it.”</p>
<p>Tony took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m a teensy bit traumatized from… yeah. And maybe I need, uh…” He swallowed. “Help. Protocol TIFD help.”</p>
<p>“We’ll get you there.” Rhodey put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Back after Ultron, Tony decided that maybe it was time to get better. He had dug himself in a hole, and he and Rhodey had developed a protocol; JARVIS would give him reminders to eat, to sleep, to shower, to take his medication, and if Tony ignored him, Rhodey would be alerted. It also gave JARVIS full control over the doors, allowing them to be unlocked if deemed necessary, and Tony would have no say in it. His lack of judgement worried both Rhodey and JARVIS, there was reason Protocol TIFD stood for Tony Is a Fucking Dumbass. Rhodey came up with the name, and while Tony really judged the lack of creativity, the name stuck.</p>
<p>Pepper was added to the protocol after they got back together. It was better that way. Rhodey was sometimes busy with doctor’s appointments and Tony never stopped working to fill the hole in his heart, so Pepper had stepped in. She was good for him, and he had gotten better.</p>
<p>And now he was back at square one.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, you know. To need help again. Relapse is okay.” Rhodey noticed Tony’s faltering mood.</p>
<p>“Don’t phrase it like that,” Tony snapped. “Makes me sound… terminal.”</p>
<p>Rhodey snorted. “You’re a menace.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to die.”</p>
<p>“That’s good,” Rhodey said, sobered. “Haven’t heard you say that yet.”</p>
<p>“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Tony grumbled. </p>
<p>Rhodey sighed and leaned forward on his elbows, moving closer to Tony. “I’m proud of you, okay?”</p>
<p>He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re asking for help,” Rhodey said matter-of-factly. “You’ve come a long way.”</p>
<p>“I’m also… significantly more traumatized than I was when you first met me,” Tony stated, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. </p>
<p>“At least now you’re not a drug addict.”</p>
<p>“Shut the fuck up.”</p>
<p>Rhodey grinned, punching Tony in the shoulder amicably, and Tony found himself smiling as well.</p>
<p>It didn’t matter the situation, it didn’t matter how far into his own ass Tony was, Rhodey was there for him. He always knew exactly what to say to get Tony back in the game, he knew when to be harsh and to snap him out of it, and he knew when he should just shut up and let Tony have his own little dramatic Shakespearian monologue. Rhodey had his six, and Tony would give him the world if Pepper would let him; he sure deserved it, having put up with Tony’s shit for decades now.</p>
<p>And since Rhodey always knew exactly what to do, Tony was soon under the covers of his own bed, pumped up with Advil, exhaustion getting the better of him.</p>
<p>“Rhodey,” Tony whispered, right as Rhodey was getting up to turn off the light. “Can I tell you something?”</p>
<p>“What’s up?” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>“When me and Pete, when we were, uh, y’know…” Tony paused and cleared his throat. “I knew you were going to come.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Rhodey looked sad now.</p>
<p>“I just had to hold on. That’s what I told myself, because you always, you always come to get me. Whenever I’m in trouble. You always…” Tony trailed off, his point made. Rhodey looked down at his friend, his eyes sad but caring, and ran a hand through Tony’s hair.</p>
<p>“You always find a way out yourself too, y’know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. </p>
<p>He got up and walked across the room, reaching for the light switch. Right before he turned it off, he turned to Tony’s still form on the bed, already half-asleep.</p>
<p>“You gotta give yourself some credit.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Tony woke up slowly as the hot sun shone through his blinds, warm and comfy. It was only two in the afternoon, after all. He had time to waste.</p>
<p>A shadow suddenly plunging what he could see from behind his eyelids into darkness was not welcome though. Tony’s eyes snapped open, darting straight to the window to find the source of the offending shadow, and found… a person? A creep was watching him sleep? At two o'clock in the afternoon? Tony squinted and the familiar red and blue of the Spider-Man suit swam into view, and suddenly he was halfway across the room, opening the window.</p>
<p>“We meeting Romeo and Juliet style now?” Tony joked as Peter stumbled inside, looking guilty.</p>
<p>“Just wanted to check up on you,” he said, smiling sheepishly, catching sight of Tony’s plaid pyjama pants and black muscle tank. “Sorry if I woke you up.”</p>
<p>“I was just lying there anyway.” Tony waved his hand dismissively. </p>
<p>Peter’s expression changed, and he shifted his weight from side to side. “I just want to, uh, make sure. You did, you did delete what you were working before, right?”</p>
<p>Tony sighed, dragging a hand across his face, guilt suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks. “To be honest, I haven’t even been down in the lab since.”</p>
<p>Peter looked down, too embarrassed to ask the question himself.</p>
<p>“So FRIDAY, will you do the honours?” Tony asked his AI.</p>
<p>“Are you sure, Boss?” FRIDAY asked him. Protocol.</p>
<p>“A hundred percent.”</p>
<p>“Alright. Untitled Project three thousand and nineteen deleted from interface. Backup will be available for thirty days. Would you like to delete now?” </p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“You have three thousand and nineteen untitled projects?” Peter asked. “That’s worse than the two hundred untitled Google documents in my drive!”</p>
<p>“I like to come up with clever names, and when clever names don’t take priority, or if I’m halfway through a bottle of scotch, I just leave them,” Tony shrugged. “And name your documents, kid. Gets you into a good habit.”</p>
<p>“We don’t even use Google Drive in college. We switch over to Microsoft,” Peter said.</p>
<p>Tony looked at how tightly Peter’s hands were to his sides, at his rigid posture, and he was still shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looked awkward, like he had something else to say but didn’t quite <em>want</em> to say it. </p>
<p>“Spit it out, kid,” Tony sighed. “I’m not doing this whole lack-of-communication thing again.”</p>
<p>“I had a nightmare last night,” Peter blurted out, finally gaining permission to speak. His face went almost as red as the Spider-Man suit, and he started wringing his hands. </p>
<p>Tony gave him an urging look to continue with the train of thought when Peter took a while to say something else.</p>
<p>“I, uh, you were, you-” he cut himself off. “Okay. You had completed the, whatever the heck it was called, untitled project three thousand and nineteen, and uh…”</p>
<p>Tony could already tell how this was gonna go. He sat down on the edge of his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>“Are you okay? I can stop?” Peter asked in a panic, reading Tony’s body language.</p>
<p>“No. No, continue,” he said, waving his hand at Peter. “Get it out.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Okay. Well, uh, basically the gist of it, you were mind controlled and stabbed me and of course it worked, because you’re you and everything you do always works, and uh, a building fell on me and I died,” Peter said in one quick sentence, his words coming out like they were fighting to get out of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Sounds fun,” Tony said. He tried not to calculate the possibility of that actually happening.</p>
<p>“Yeah. So, uh, I just wanted to come here and make sure, that you had, really, uh, that you had really deleted it?” Peter said like it was a question, his shoulder up to his ears, he was so tense.</p>
<p>“It’s gone, now,” Tony said.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid, and I <em>know</em> you’d never like, actually do anything to consciously harm me, so like, I don’t even know why I came in the first place.”</p>
<p>Tony smiled, standing up and putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s not <em>stupid</em>. Trust me. I also have an irrational fear of hurting you.”</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid of you hurting me! That’s mean. That’s not-”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid of hurting everyone, Pete. You’re not special,” Tony said, a little humour in his tone. “Your Aunt literally had to talk me out of ditching you as soon as you left the med bay. I’m a little destructive and reckless, and I didn’t want to drag you into my messes.”</p>
<p>“You were gonna ditch me?” Peter asked.</p>
<p>Tony didn’t see the sense of sugar coating it. He shrugged. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“But I didn’t!” Tony let go of his shoulder, gesturing at them both. “Look at us. You’re in my bedroom, and we’re having a heart-to-heart conversation like the adult I’m supposed to be and you’re going to be. This is not ditching you. I could never ditch you. You’re literally the human embodiment of puppy eyes.”</p>
<p>“Uh, thanks?”</p>
<p>“And while we’re still having that heart-to-heart conversation, you gotta tell me more about these nightmares, Pete.” Tony’s tone was suddenly low and somber.</p>
<p>“They don’t happen that often.” Peter said, tensing up again. “It has to happen, though. Like, I nearly get shot at every other night. Of course it’s scary.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, just let me know if it ever becomes too much of a problem. Now that I’ve got my Master’s in pharmaceutical science I’m sure I could make an antidepressant for your metabolism,” Tony mentioned off-handedly, like it was a footnote. “May as well put it to good use.”</p>
<p>“I’m not depressed.”</p>
<p>“That’s good to hear,” Tony huffed out. Lord knew at least one of them had to have a functioning brain.</p>
<p>Peter looked at him closely, as if trying to read him, and Tony backed off</p>
<p>“We done feeling for today? Good. I want breakfast, and, considering how you woke me up, you’re gonna assist in the pancake making,” he said, walking over to his closet and pulling out two sweatshirts. He tossed one of them to Peter and pulled the other over his own head. “Throw that on. Don’t wanna get the spider-suit all flour-y.”</p>
<p>Peter did as he was told, and Tony grinned at the sight of him in an MIT sweatshirt. <em>The things he’d do for the kid.</em></p>
<p>Pepper and Rhodey walked in on them in the kitchen, both huddled together, trying to make different shapes with the pancake batter. Several failed (but still edible) attempts at the Iron Man helmet were stacked on a plate, and they had just given up and had started trying to make the Spider-Man mask. Tony, as great as he was with drawing designs on blueprints, was not great with pancake art. </p>
<p>“Thought I’d have to drag you out of bed to eat. You took my job, Pete,” Rhodey joked, clapping Tony on the back. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Peter said, too distracted by the task at hand. “No, wait! Mr Stark, you messed up the eye!”</p>
<p>Tony passed him the squeezy bottle of batter. “Then why don’t you try, Mr Pablo Picasso.”</p>
<p>Peter tried his best on an empty spot on the pan, but screwed up the webbing design. “Aw, shoot.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I thought.”</p>
<p>Tony glanced back at Pepper and Rhodey, who were grinning at the two. Peter seemed to also sense their gaze, and they both turned around, eyebrows raised, as if daring them to say something. </p>
<p>“What are you looking at?” Tony asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to ask you if you wanted me to print out the adoption papers,” Pepper smiled, her voice evil.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too,” Tony turned back to the task at hand. “Flip it. It might be salvageable.”</p>
<p>“Which one? Yours or mine?”</p>
<p>“You just put yours on five seconds ago, why would it be ready? Use your brain, I know you’ve got one.” Tony rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Totally uncalled for, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to say fuck you, because you’re a child, but fuck you.”</p>
<p>“I got to high school. I’ve been desensitized to swear words.”</p>
<p>“You were the one who said, <em>aw shoot</em>, instead of its equally applicable synonym like a minute ago,” Tony challenged.</p>
<p>“Aw shit. I said it. You happy now?”</p>
<p>“Just flip the damn pancake.”</p>
<p>Peter stuck his tongue out at Tony, grabbing the spatula, and Tony stopped to think for a bit. Maybe he was getting too close to Peter. Maybe Pepper was right. And the entire time while they had been captured, the Man bun dude had called Peter his son, but Tony, Tony hadn’t refuted it? And he was actually enjoying spending time with Peter like this? </p>
<p>And Peter too, smiling and bantering with him, like nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Maybe the rift in between him and Tony hadn’t even existed in the first place, maybe Tony’s mind made it up. Because Peter was clearly fine, not at all acting like Tony had put them both in danger, like he held a grudge. If anything, they were closer than before. </p>
<p>Peter didn’t blame him. Not subconsciously, he wasn’t hiding it. So then maybe Tony could forgive himself too.</p>
<p>“See? Now it’s burned.”</p>
<p>“And how is that my fault, Mr Stark.”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s not mine!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ew that ending was ew ew ew ashsjdfhajkf but I stared at it for like a whole week and couldn't think of how else to end it.<br/>But we're done! This is officially the longest fic I've ever written (and posted) on AO3.<br/>I think I have something written for Christmas? So we'll see when I get my next fic up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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